


Just Human

by Lanceletta



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Asimov's Universe, F/M, Friendship, Murder Mystery, Mystery, Romance, Science Fiction, Sherlolly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-12 00:56:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 28,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5648020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lanceletta/pseuds/Lanceletta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock Holmes is bored on the dull Planet Aurora till his brother sends him to Old Earth to solve a politically sensitive case with the help of the local pathologist. The case seems to be easier than Sherlock expected, but things are getting interesting when Molly Hooper's discovery indicates something bigger than a simple murder case. Sherlolly, Isaac Asimov's Universe</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Why on Earth?

**Author's Note:**

> I've alread posted is story on FF but now I decided to post it here too. A huge thanks for the lovely MizJoely, who was so kind to be my beta for this story. I am really grateful, it's a great work all betas do for us, whose first language is not English.
> 
> About the universe: The story is a romantic (Sherlolly of course) mystery basically put into Isaac Asimov's sci-fi universe, but I read his books more than ten years ago, so I don't remember exact details. I altered a few things for our heroes, and there certainly are thins I think about as my own but they are not, my brain had stolen them from somewhere without notice. So, if there's anything remind you of something else, it belongs to there.
> 
> For me it's fun, entertainment and distraction. I hope it will be the same for you too. Let me know. :)

The rising sun's first beams hardly reached the horizon of Planet Aurora when the blackberry bush came into life by the chatting and jiggling of the several sparrows inhabited on it. The holocom went off in this early hour in the great detective's study room. Any other inhabitant of Planet Aurora would be annoyed from being disturbed this ridiculously early in the morning, but not Sherlock Holmes. His sleeping hours were as erratic as his eating schedule.

His annoyance came from not the time of the call but the person behind it. It was his brother, Mycroft and for a long moment he hesitated to answer at all.  
On Planet Aurora unlike on the Old Earth family bonds meant barely anything, only genetic similarity, however everybody was aware of their cousinhood, because it was indispensable to procreate optimum offspring, which was the inconvenient duty of every civilian of Aurora.

Family members rarely held intercourse with each other, but Mycroft Holmes preferred to keep in touch with his brother to exploit his incredible ability of observation and deduction. Thanks for the fortunate matching of their parents their genetic set was above average even among the perfectly planned human beings in Aurora. Mycroft claimed to occupy a minor position in the planet's government, however Sherlock suspected it was more major than minor. Although he hated any kind of human interaction, this connection wasn't entirely inconvenient for him as long as his brother took care of occupying his usually bored but constantly racing mind with the small cases of the pitiful power play done among members of the government.

'Mycroft, what a pleasure!' Sherlock mockingly rolled his eyes as his brother's hologram appeared in front of him.

'Sherlock.' Mycroft nodded with a fake grin not reaching his eyes. Mycroft Holmes was wearing his usual white suit without a wrinkle, his dark red hair was above reproach, as always and his inevitable umbrella, which was more than useless on a planet where the weather was under regulation on each farm severally, leaned parallel along his tall figure. Always so neat, so impeccable. Sometimes Sherlock wondered what would happen to Mycroft if somebody combed his grass to the opposite direction.

'What do you want?' asked Sherlock not looking into his brother's eyes while was fidgeting indolently with his violin to seem occupied. He would never admit to Mycroft that he was almost dying of boredom in the last few days. His dark unruly curls reached his eyebrows under his forehead making contrast with his light green eyes.

'I've got a job for you,' stated Mycroft and he suppressed a chuckle as he saw Sherlock's previously easy body tense, his twanging fingers stop.

'It's a murder.' Sherlock eyes snapped at him, intensive excitement glinting in them. He put down the violin and started to pace up and down in his semi lighted study room with his hands put together under his chin.  
'Tell me more.' he said eagerly, eyes wide from hunger.

Murder was not an everyday event on Aurora; the last one had happened more than fifty years prior. Well even smaller crimes were very rare. On the rich outer worlds nobody had enough motives to commit anything illegal. The number of the population was ideal on each planet; every individual had enough territory to have their own ranch to live on, big enough to crop the adequate quantity of products and to never meet anybody else in person. Naturally every citizen had the basic right to own the sufficient amount of positron robots, to keep the household and to do and lead the turning out of the farm products.

'The victim is a young female; she was hit on the head by a long cylindrical object.' With a content smile Mycroft started to delineate the main circumstances.

'What? I hope that it wouldn't require personal attendance.' Sherlock interrupted him.  
Mycroft only gave his brother a quick, fake smile.

On Aurora children were raised from birth by nursing robots, on their own estate, inherited from its earlier inhabitant. That was how the previous generation gave away the place to the next, and that was why the government was keen to keep the accession under control. Being alone aside from contact with the robots, people on the outer planets never met each other personally, and as the years passed in this kind of separation, the mere thought of physical proximity became inappropriate, later appalling then even perverse. With the help of holocom people could communicate with each other giving the false impression of being in the same room. They even held parties with several guests strictly being present only by holograms.

'The crime was committed on Old Earth. The victim was an Earth inhabitant and our ambassador is the main suspect. That's why they require our assistance,' Mycroft added. Sherlock's expression fell from disappointment.

'Well then, connect me with the detective leading the case.' He sighed theatrically with a bored expression.

'That hardly will be enough. You have to go there.'

Sherlock was taken aback. 'Are you out of your mind? I won't go down there, to the planet of the apes. I am not interested at all.' He turned his back to Mycroft stubbornly.

'Should I remind you of what would happen to you if the government got knowledge about your little experiments involving human body parts your robots steal from the crematorium?' Sherlock gulped and turned to face his brother looking into his narrowed eyes.

'Fffine.' he hissed between his teeth and a content grin spread across Mycroft's face.

'Good, I'll send you the details,' he said before his form disappeared from Sherlock's study room.

Sherlock started to pace again ruffling his hair and shouting from annoyance. Then he suddenly turned to his companion.

'You've heard it, John; we are going down to Mother Earth,' he said with a disgusted ironic expression but John didn't miss the honest glint of excitement in his eyes.

'Why me, Mike? There's Dr Lewis. He's been here longer than me, he is the senior pathologist, he should have the honour to work with that posh, cocky alien.' Molly Hooper was furious, she felt betrayed by her boss. The last thing she wanted was one of those sick robot-slave keeper idiots around her during her work.

On Earth the construction of robots stopped hundred years ago, after thousands of cases where people expressed their fear of the too human-like robots. The case was that Earth used robots as well constructed on the outer planets in the cities or in the industry, but their build up, coating, or voice were never even reminding close to resembing that of a human being.

'Molly, DI Lestrade asked especially for you, he trusts you more than anybody else in this sensitive case. You can imagine the pressure on him during this kind of politically delicate situation.' Mike sighed and looked at Molly with an apologetic look through his frameless glasses.

The young pathologist rolled her eyes in surrender. 'Fine.' She sighed in surrender and headed to her locker to finally get her bag and go home to have a long sleep before the madness would begin the next day when the posh alien idiot would arrive.


	2. Just Like A Real One

Molly woke up early that morning long before her alarm would clink. She clumsyly swept her long brown hair out of her face before taking down her bare feet on the floor next to her single bed. She felt nervous about her day. Dealing with a high and mighty detective or whatever from an outer planet would not be easy. Molly knew that they were all afraid of infections, human contact and abiding in the same room as another human being at all, not to mention their low social skills. According to the rumours they were all very rude and belittling with the people on the Old Earth. Well she had never met one herself before, but she had never indented to do at all.  
So Molly took a refreshing shower in her bath box and took out her fresh clothes from the washing closet. As the artificial sun rose above the opposite house she was ready to go and start her day at St. Bart's Hospital in New London.

More than eight hundred years ago, not long after the wealthier part of the planet had dispersed in the galaxy to previously terraformed planets, World War 4 began, and the nuclear weapons destroyed more than three quarter of the planet. With the effective help from the external worlds the remains of the human race on Earth were relocated to the safest corner of the planet or emigrated to the outer worlds. Some returned, some remained when after five years the twenty giant cities built by robots were ready for occupation. Each city could take in twenty million inhabitants but had the opportunity to be improved. Since the whole atmosphere and nature was down from the strong radioactivity, the cities were covered by huge domes which cleared the air defusing through, and gave the smooth artificial light according to the current part of the day.

Molly walked to work every day, instead of taking the tube, because if she departed early enough, she had time to make a small by-pass and walk through the New Hyde Park. New London was a rich city compared to the others which meant it had more parks and green areas, commodious public areas and almost every flat had its own bath box. Water was very valuable because it took a huge effort to produce clean water, so everybody had a daily ration that was strictly monitored. As Molly crossed the park watching children amble along to school, and adults dashing to work, she smiled. This early serene milling of life always made her remember how she loved to live in the inner city.

As Molly stepped in through the main door every pair of eyes was stuck to her and the loud rumbling faded in the hospital's white, light lobby. She stiffened uncomfortably and made her way down the stairs towards the morgue, her eyes on the floor.

'Awesome,' she murmured ironically as she took the grey stairs. 'That was all I needed.' She already had been the awkward, silent girl working with the dead, now she was in the middle of the gossip hurricane. As she reached the door on the corridor she found it locked, but within a second Mike Stamford strode out from his office to greet her.

'Good morning, Molly,' he said cheerfully then grabbed her arm to drag her into his office. As Mike closed the door his big smile dropped and he started to whisper to the wide eyed Molly Hooper. 'They are here, they closed up the whole area, and nobody is allowed to enter the morgue or the lab except you. But even you have to be sterilized.' Mike huffed in annoyance. 'He is like a bloody rock star, just storming in and owning the place, and then this git is sending his robot to communicate with us apes,' he said mockingly and wiped his sweaty forehead. 'By the way this robot, you know...it's just like a human being, terrifying.' Mike shook his head. He finally stopped rumbling and looked at Molly's pale face and suddenly regretted all he had just said,  
'Oh, it's not that bad, really. I just... Sorry, Molly.' He gingerly patted her on the back and tried to smile calmingly. He failed. If the usually calm, patient and jovial Mike's temper had been ruffled by the alien, then Molly would break into pieces within an hour spent with him.

But instead of a useless protest she just asked in a faint voice. 'How will they sterilize me?' She swallowed hard.

'There's a cubicle behind the door on the corridor, they said you just had to step in,' answered Mike in a low voice. Molly turned on her heels and stepped out the door, trying to keep her expression emotionless.

The sterilizer cubicle was not at all as horrible as she had expected; actually, if she hadn't had all her clothes on it would have been a pretty good warm shower. Even the scent was good, something sweet, like the small white flower, (lily of the valley, such a beautiful name, she would never forget it) she had once smelled in the botanical museum with her dad long ago.

As Molly slowly opened the lab door and put in her head, she saw two men silently exploring the long shelves on the wall containing lab supplies. The tall one in long black coat and blue scarf around his neck leaned forward with straight back, hands folded behind it; his dark curls were adjusted perfectly above his long face. The other one was shorter than his companion and clothes were more casual, a white button up shirt and a brown cardigan covered his torso with matching trousers; his short blond hair was combed to one side plainly.

She stepped in and cleared her throat which suddenly made both men face her. 'I...uhm...hello. I am Molly Hooper. I am...uhm...the pathologist,' she said and waved her hand awkwardly from the doorstep, not daring to go inside. They were staring at each other for a moment, then Molly pulled herself together and decided to be professional. She stepped forward and not getting better idea offered her hand to the shorter man standing closer to her. The man glanced at her for a moment then shook her hand with a gentle, warm smile spreading across his face.

'John R. Watson, nice to meet you, Doctor Hooper.'

'You too. I hope you had pleasant trip.' Molly returned the smile, and felt relief. It seemed that not all of them were rude and unkind.

'Thank you, our travelling was without any complications.' His nice, wide smile remained as he slightly turned his head towards his companion.

'This is...' he began but was interrupted by Molly who was already close in front of Sherlock's strained figure, staring into his motionless face under a spell.  
'...fascinating. I've heard that you make perfect imitations, but this is far more than what I've expected. Beautiful.'

On Earth everybody disliked humanoid robots compulsively, they feared them and had repugnance for them. But Molly as a scientist was fascinated by a creature of this quality made by the human race. 'Even the little asymmetry is there, just like a human face, wonderful.' As she said that, she stepped forward to examine further and reached out to touch his skin, when Sherlock recoiled back and with furrowed brows, round eyes fixed on her lifted his jaw to take a quick nervous breath in through his nose. Then Molly's eyes widened as she was hit by the recognition. As she saw the filters in his nostrils, she became aware of his gloved hands and high necked fitting safety dungarees under his opened coat and suit jacket.

'Oh, my God. I am ... terribly sorry. I...uhm... thought...' Molly stammered as she was stepping backwards looking at John confused yet seeking some kind of help which arrived.

'Sorry for the misunderstanding, Doctor Hooper. I should have told you what the letter R means in my name, obviously it's not a common thing on Earth. Although, I think, you've already guessed.' John bowed then turned toward Sherlock and said 'This is Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective from Planet Aurora. I hope the sterilizer box didn't cause too much inconvenience, it's protocol.'

The detective cleared his throat as he gained back his formal expressionless attitude.  
'Doctor Hooper. Let's start working!' Sherlock Holmes said plainly and Molly couldn't not discern the lack of handshaking. As she automatically opened the door to lead them to the morgue, she was kicking herself mentally. How could she think that the short, genuine, kind smiling robot was the human? Everybody knows that people from external words are tall, aristocratic, cold and rude and yet she mixed up them. Well done, Molly, you made of yourself a complete idiot in less than two minutes, she thought.

As Molly drew the victim's cadaver onto the autopsy table she noticed glint of curiosity in the detective's eye. She really expected the man wincing, and getting nervous, because if he was annoyed by the presence of a living human being, what kind of reaction would be expected seeing a dead one. But he seemed fascinated. As he was examining the body she gave him as much space as she could.

'Rebecca Hammerstone, female, 29.' Molly started to speak, trying to sound professional. 'No toxins, no pregnancy...' She stopped as she saw Sherlock leaning close above the victim's face and frowned.

'Go on,' he demanded and gestured for her continue without glancing up at her. Instead he took out a digital magnifying glass from his pocket and continued examining the corpse with narrowed eyes.

Molly gave John a confused look, and when he nodded smiling encouraging, she continued while she was thinking about in the back of her mind that she really had just required emotional comforting from a machine. And she even got it.  
'She was hit on the head with a cylindrical, quite hard object, which...' Molly took a small remote controller into her hand and after some nervous button-pushing and apologising, a holographic image appeared above the body showing the supposed murder weapon's form.  
'...looks something like that, concluded from the...' but she was interrupted by the detective's shouting at his companion with hard a expression on his face.

'John, out!' Molly looked at Sherlock first then at John who didn't move but stood there frozen.  
'John R. Watson, get out of the room, now!' To that John slowly turned and left the room, limping. Sherlock right after him on his heels. Molly understood nothing from this scene, but she was waiting hesitantly fidgeting with her fingers and biting her lower lip nervously.

In the corridor Sherlock commanded John to get some sleep so he closed his eyes and froze. The detective stood still too, his hands on each shoulders of his robot, to get together his own thoughts to speak. He had to be careful, John's limp was back. It meant that some physical damage had been caused, so he had to find the problem and repair it as soon as possible if he planned to keep his personal robot.

After half an hour Sherlock came back. He looked exhausted; his hair was disheveled from ruffling.  
'I presume you want an explanation.' Sherlock stopped at the end of the table with a cocky expression quite far from the young pathologist.

'Well, I would,' Molly answered under her breath.

'John is a robot,...'

'Yeah, I've got that part,' Molly muttered under her breath but closed her mouth as the detective gave her an annoyed look.

'Being that there are three laws he has to follow, no matter what happens. It is built in his brain. First: A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm. Second: A robot must obey the orders given to it by human beings, except where such orders would conflict with the First Law. And the third: A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second connections in his positronic brain are the base of his mind, and if anything happens to seriously disturb these neural paths, the whole brain is in danger. Previously I've made changes in him to be able to deal with a dead human bodies, or body parts for certain reasons but what happened now was out of his borders.' The detective gave a look to Molly, she suspected meant now we all know what happened, but as he saw her arched eyebrows and her mouth shaping a questioning O, he rolled his eyes.  
'How are you all able to live with such a tiny brain, always a mystery?' He sighed with rolling his eyes but continued, 'Our cylindrical object is an arm with a fist, don't you see?' He asked impatiently as he pointed on the holographic picture.

'But its solidity and the strength of the blows are...' and suddenly she put two and two together . 'Oh, my god. But... I thought ... it's impossible.' She whispered in a faint voice, eyes wide open looking confused at the image before her.

'Yes, Doctor Hooper, our murderer is a robot, and until I solve the case this information has to remain between us, understood?' With that he turned on his heels and stormed out of the morgue without saying anything else. If Molly didn't know how potentially explosive this information was, she would have sworn she saw a little smile dancing on his lips while he was leaving, being perfectly aware of his own importance.


	3. Personally

'I need to interrogate the suspect. I've been waiting for over a week,' Sherlock hissed through his teeth. He was sitting in the quite comfortable armchair in the flat he was given for his stay on Earth. A flat, what a ridiculous thing, how can these people live in such tiny places, it's like living in a cage, he thought while he was waiting for DI Lestrade's answer on the holocom. The policeman had run his hand down his pinched face and sighed. His bloodshot eyes were on his desk and he was squirming in his seat, it was obvious that he wasn't comfortable with using holocom.

On Earth holocoms were quite rare simply because people didn't felt the urge to have the other in three dimensions with them while discussing daily topics, and if they did, they simply met each other instead. Few bureaus, like the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, police and all embassies had holocoms, and in case of they had to deal with outsiders, who were apparently fond of this device of communication.

'You are not even an officer. Why didn't they send a DI or at least a sergeant?' Lestrade tried to object, but from the hopeless look on the silver haired man's face Sherlock already knew that he would get what he wanted.

'Maybe I am not one, but at least I am not an incompetent like your company officers either. If you want this case to be solved within a short time, you'll allow me to speak to Eric Burkeheart. You know that you need me.' Sherlock narrowed his eyes as he was unconsciously stroking the curves of his violin.

'Yeah, right.' The DI sighed. 'Let's do it tomorrow afternoon at 5pm. It's unofficial; I can get fired because of this. Shit! You call.' With that Lestrade hung up, and disappeared from the small living room of Sherlock's flat. He smiled uncontrollably and turned to John who was sitting in the other armchair opposite to the detective.

'Are you ready to listen to this statement?' Sherlock asked with a frown, eyeing his robot, ready to read every small reaction mentioning the possibly upsetting topic.

'Yes. 'John's answer was quick and determined, so Sherlock shortly nodded and leaned back to his armchair with closed eyes, to retreat among his thoughts, into his mind palace.

The interrogation started exactly at 5pm. Sherlock was eager to get in touch with the ambassador of Aurora after he had read through his biography and previous statement given to Lestrade.

Every outer world had its embassy on Earth, though to be sent to the old planet was a kind of slight, sometimes even punishment for political reasons. But Eric Burkeheart was different. Ten years ago he had volunteered to live, work and stand for his planet on the Old Earth. He was decidedly fighting for getting humanoid robots across to people, because he believed that robots really could make life better for the local inhabitants. He held free seminars for whoever was interested in robotic technology, and lent some robots to those who seemed truly dedicated for the case, even if sometimes he got them back totally damaged. According to the rumours after the first two years living separated in his given flat, Eric started to open up and communicate with the real people in the city; later he even had personal meetings occasionally. Nowadays he was living just like other people on the planet; he lived, walked, travelled did shopping, had socialized and worked among them. It was almost too strange and embarrassing for the government of Aurora, but on Earth he was rated the most popular outsider politician, so for the good connections' sake he was kept in his place.

'So, Mr Burkeheart, what was your connection to the victim?' Sherlock asked without bothering with pleasantries. Eric Burkeheart's three dimensional picture looked up at Sherlock, trying to stand the detective's cold steady gaze but he'd failed before he started to talk and lowered his head.

'Rebecca was my assistant,' he said in a faint voice.

'Why didn't you have a robot assistant?' Sherlock raised a questioning eyebrow. His intent wasn't to ask anything he didn't know the answer for yet from the police's files. He just wanted to hear Burkeheart's answers directly. He knew he was lying, he just didn't know why.

'I had. I have robots for every job I lead and humans as well. My goal is to make people get used to working with robots.'

'Yes, I know about your intentions. Your behaviour among these people is quite unusual for somebody from the outer worlds.'

'I simply enjoy the company of other human beings.' Burkeheart shrugged.

'Obviously,' Sherlock murmured under his breath with an expression of disgust. 'Why did you kill Rebecca Hammerstone?' He quickly changed the subject for the element of surprise.

'I...uhm.' It worked; the quick question took the suspect by surprise and put him off balance. His eyes widened and after stuttering a bit he spoke. 'I was working in the office later than usual, it was already dark outside. It was about 10pm, when I saw movements in the dark from the direction of the inside room. That is where we keep the office robots. We had a break in a year ago when twelve robots were demolished by activists who were against robotic technology, so I thought I can't let it happen again so I run shouting towards her and when I saw a gun in her hand I hit the intruder with the first object I could grab. It was a severed robot arm. I was so afraid; I have gotten several death threats in the last year. When the body collapsed, I switched on the light and saw that...' He gulped and took a ship from the glass of water he had in front of him.'... it was her.' The ambassador cleared his throat and looked down at his hands silently.

Sherlock frowned. This whole was so wrong, the pieces didn't match up with each other. Burkeheart's statement was the same he saw in the police files. Totally the same, every word. It was like when somebody has to learn a poem and they can recite it perfectly the same way every time. According to Lestrade's note, Eric Burkeheart was lying, it was obvious, but why?

'Why didn't you ask who it was?'

'I ... uhm ...was sure that it was an intruder at this odd hour.' Sherlock hummed and thought that this answer was weak, very weak.

'We have finished for now. I will contact you soon.' The tired man nodded just once Sherlock hung up.

The detective leaned back in his chair and placed his hands under his chin. He retrieved to his mind palace and made a whole wall of shelves for this case. It was an eight at least.  
Burkeheart had become like these people, this was clear, and this was the difficulty. Sherlock didn't know or understand these people, not that he would like to, but it was almost impossible to read them; their motivations were mainly...sentimental nonsense. He needed somebody who could see through the ambassador's facade better than him. He was lying and obviously had strong emotions, ridiculous and appalling for a man from an outer planet. All of them were supposed to be above such simple chemical progressions.

'John, we need local help.'

'Yes, I think so. Somebody from the yard?'

'Hmm?' Sherlock looked at him questioningly. 'Oh, no. No, no, no. I don't want to share the information I have about our killer yet with them .' Sherlock glanced at John, who unconsciously straightened his limping leg in front of his armchair.

'Doctor Hooper?' John asked.

'Who?' Sherlock frowned in confusion being already distracted by his inner thoughts and turned his head towards his colleague.

'The pathologist, Molly Hooper,' John answered, searching for other possibilities in his positronic brain expecting Sherlock to object. But he was wrong.

'Aaahh, good then. She already knows that the killer was...hmm...somebody else, she is bright and loyal. Call her and send her the record. I expect her observations in two hours.' With that he stood up and headed to the bedroom but turned back when John called after him.

'Don't you think that sending the record of this not official interrogation to her personal computer through the city's monitored line wouldn't please DI Lestrade?'

'Point taken. What do you suggest?' Sherlock frowned turning back towards John.

'Let's ask her to come here personally.'

'What? To the flat I live in? Even if it's temporary it would be embarrassing, John.'

'Not for her.' John lifted his eyebrows questioningly. Sometimes Sherlock thought that John was amused by him, laughing at him, almost saw a smug smile on the corner of his mouth, but usually he was just simply flattered by the perfect manmade object he possessed and sometimes called his friend.

'Ahhh, fine.' Sherlock sighed dramatically and threw his hands up in surrender. 'I think I can endure one last personal meeting.' With that he disappeared into the bedroom.

It wasn't the first time Sherlock had come to Earth to investigate, so he was kind of used to rarely meeting people in person if it was necessary but it was still really uncomfortable for him. He winced at the thought to letting somebody into his flat, but a wide smirk spread on his face as he imagined what would happen if Mycroft had to endure such inconvenience. He would definitely faint from annoyance.

Two hours later the phone went off in Sherlock's bedroom and as he accepted the call, the elderly landlady's always cheerful face appeared in front of him.  
Mrs. Hudson was not a real landlady but some kind of contact person between New London's common people and the inhabitants of the district, which was built especially for people who visited Earth from thre outer planets for a shorter or a longer time. Mrs Hudson was one of the rare examples who was born on Tristan, one of the outer worlds, but grew up on Earth, after her parents had decided to move back to the mother planet, so she was familiar with robots and didn't mind personal contact either. She was the perfect fit for the job, the indispensable link between the natives and the guests.

'Hello, dear.' Sherlock rolled his eyes at Mrs Hudson's familiarity. 'It's very unusual here, but you have a lady friend visitor, Doctor Molly Hooper. Sweet little thing.' She winked at Sherlock. 'Should I let her up?'

'I don't know what you are suggesting, but yes, please, do let her up.'

'Oh, don't be huffy. Mrs Morrison has married ones in the neighbourhood.' She lowered her voice and added nodding with knowing expression. 'This planet changes people, it really does.'

'Mrs. Hudson! Enough! Let her up!' Sherlock shouted at her, cutting off this farrago of nonsense. Mrs Hudson's expression changed, her genuine smile dropped as she waved to Molly to go take the lift.

'You don't need to be rude,' she said shortly with a hurt expression. Sherlock gulped, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath to calm himself down.

'I apologise, Mrs Hudson.' He nodded to the old lady's picture.

'Let's forget about it, darling.' And she smiled again cheerfully before hanging up.

Molly typed 221B on the panel in the lift and waited patiently, looking straight ahead in front of her at the totally uneventful lift door. It wasn't really a lift; it was more like a vertical and horizontal carriage, which took the occupant right in front of the desired flat's door in the huge resident building without meeting anybody. As she stepped out of it, John was already there to escort her in.


	4. This Planet Changes You

As Molly entered the comfy flat her jaw dropped at the sight of the interior. It was colourful, warm and nice and first of all eclectic. There weren't two similar pieces of furniture but somehow everything seemed to fit together Compared to her own tiny flat, which was light, and white everywhere, it was still just like how she had bought it when she started to work in the hospital years ago, Sherlock Holmes's flat was huge and chaotic, but in an amazing way.

Space was one of the most valuable things on Earth, because it was limited by the domes. Despite the continuous enlarging, the cities were always crowded. because of this flats were tiny with a small bath box and, if one could afford it, with a smaller kitchen box. The district included the building consisting Sherlock's temporary flat was currently in the usage of the wealthy outer planets which were paying quite a huge tax for it, perfectly created to satisfy their extraordinary needs

As she entered the living room Molly stopped right after she crossed the threshold to see the dark haired detective sitting in a huge dark grey, angular armchair with stretched legs, his hands put together under his chin, his eyes closed. Molly looked around to search for some help from John, but he was already busy with making tea in the kitchen. In the extremely huge kitchen.

Molly cleared her throat. 'You wanted to see me?' she asked shyly taking one step forward. Sherlock's eyes snapped open.

'Hmmm...that is not the perfect expression, but yes, I wanted to speak to you. Personally.' He pushed the last word, shifted in his seat and with a wave of his hand he offered her a seat on the outermost side on the sofa.

'Please take a seat, Doctor Hooper.' Molly smiled with clenched lips, took her oversized bag from her shoulder and sat down on the edge of the sofa careful not to take up too much room.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and took a look at her. She lacked every grace he had used to see on the women of Aurora. She was short and thin under her two size bigger clothes. Her thick, nut-brown, long hair was in a girly ponytail on the back of her head. She was lacked every unnecessary furbelows and fussy details. It was actually relaxing compared to the women he knew on his home planet. Dark circles around her eyes showed her long shift spent with hard work. Oh, how he loathed all the people on Aurora who didn't find anything to be occupied with, they were all so mushy, their skin was like wax from the too much sleeping pills and make up. That was one of the reasons he was interested in corpses. No tiring fuss, no masking, no fake smiles, only the honest human body in its own biological reality. Sherlock was wondering why Molly Hooper had chosen to be a pathologist, not a common profession for a fragile shy girl, as he knew it. Not even on Earth. On Aurora all medical work was done by robots from delivering to the autopsy. Only Sherlock was strange enough to be interested in human body parts, so he made his robots steal him one or two occasionally to use them on his experiments, naturally among sterile circumstances.

When John came in with the teas, he gave a saucer to Molly then to Sherlock. Finally he took one in his own hand and sat down to the armchair opposite to Sherlock's. Molly looked at John surprised as he took a sip from the steaming beverage. Sherlock saw her expression and smiled behind his own cup but remained silent, curiously observing her reactions.

'How is that you can drink?' The question blurted out of Molly and she blushed immediately. Sherlock was amazed by her natural reaction, he had read about it but on Aurora if anybody had ever blushed it was well covered by makeup.

John slowly placed the cup back to the saucer and answered with a genuine smile.  
'I have an artificial stomach, which can contain a small amount of nutrients, but within a few hours I have to empty it. I can't do anything with it; I am not able to digest. The holder was designed only to make robots be able to comfortably accompany their keeper during meals if it is required.'

Molly nodded but apparently kept her thoughts about the topic to herself. For Sherlock it was surprising. People on Earth never missed an opportunity to make a snarky comment about the outlanders' strange habits. Not that it asn't mutual, but still, Molly Hooper didn't say a word. Annoying. Exceptional. Interesting.

'So why am I here?' she asked Sherlock directly.

'Oh, yes.' Sherlock snapped out from his thoughts and clapped his hands. 'The case. I have interrogated NNSY's only suspect and I am aware that he lies but there are details, expressions I can't translate because of the lack of information about the local meta-communication. Besides, the suspect was an outlander, as you call us, but he had changed, now he is more like yourself.'

'How do I come in?' Molly asked with a frown.

'You watch the conversation and read his emotions.' His last word was said so mockingly that caused Molly to wince.

'Are you sure I am the most capable person for this task? NNSY has highly skilled psychologists.'

'The reason you had to come here...personally...is that this interrogation was ...khm... unofficial.' Sherlock answered in a low voice hoping Molly understood what he meant. 'Do you think you can help me?' Molly took a sip from her tea considering her answer.

'Fine, let's do it.' She nodded decidedly.

John took the remote controller and pushed the play button. Eric Burkeheart's figure appeared in front of Molly, nervously squirming in his seat. She heard Sherlock's first question and right after Burkeheart's answer gestured towards John to stop the replay.

'What is it, Dr Hooper?' Sherlock turned towards her with surprise.

'Molly, please,' she offered and Sherlock nodded.

'Then call me Sherlock,' he said and frowned as he saw a small smile on John's face from the corner of his eye.

'So, he was in love with Rebecca,' Molly said proudly.

'What? Ridiculous. We don't do such distasteful things on Aurora,' Sherlock snapped.

'Well, apparently he had changed indeed. Although he is so uncomfortable with it. Perhaps they were even lovers. He blushes like a teenage boy who talks about his first girlfriend.'

'Impossible,' Sherlock whispered with disgust. 'These symptoms can be caused simply by the shock of the events,' he objected.

'Well, that's my opinion.' Molly shrugged. 'Call it women's intuition.' Sherlock simply nodded to John to continue.

As the record went on Molly watched it intensely then gestured again to stop.

'He is too calm. I mean, obviously he is upset, but if you killed your love accidentally, even if it was an accident, you would be in pieces. He is certainly mourning inside but not on the edge of madness.' Molly frowned as Sherlock stepped up abruptly and started to pace up and down murmuring.

'He is quite pulled together, his speech is coherent. Too coherent. And exactly the same he told the police a week days ago. Word for word. He didn't do it obviously. He lies. He lies not for himself, obviously, but to protect somebody.' His talking became faster and faster. 'Or rather something. He knows that the murderer was a robot but is trying to protect it. Not specifically that robot, but all of them. If this is revealed, Earth would forbid using humanoid robots for centuries again. The work of his whole life would be damaged.' His mouth formed a wide grin. 'That's why he lied. The technicians have to find the exact robot based on the sample of the artificial skin found on the body.' He clapped his hands and turned to John. 'Case is solved. Let's get back to Aurora.' With that he whirled into his bedroom shutting the door loudly without a single word to Molly.

She blinked with surprise. 'Well.' She got up from the couch with a sigh. 'I'd better go now. I'll send the sample tomorrow morning,' she said to John who was escorting her to the door.

'Thank you, Dr Hooper. We really appreciate your readiness.' John nodded.

'Please call me Molly.' She smiled faintly.

'Thank you, Molly. We'll speak tomorrow then.'

'Yes. Bye.'

Molly was walking home that night sunk in her thoughts about this strange, aristocratic consulting detective, as he called himself, unable to distract her mind from his piercing, observing, mysterious green-blue eyes.

Sherlock Holmes was lying on his bed with his ankles crossed and hands behind the back of his head and was impatiently waiting for the glorious moment he could leave that annoying planet when his holophone went off.

'Dear brother, how is the case?' Mycroft's voice at least slightly put off him from boredom.

'It's solved. It was one of Burkeheart's robots. Your technicians will tell you which one. The pathologist will send us the sample tomorrow. I depart in 9 hours. This was merely a 3' Sherlock stated in disgust.

'It's unbelievable. It would mean that the robot has a horrible, fatal malfunction.'

'Obviously.' Sherlock theatrically suppressed a yawn.

'Are you sure you are correct?' Asked Mycroft with troubled expression, deep in his thoughts.

'I always am,' the younger Holmes answered, raising his voice with a hint of pique in it.

Next morning Sherlock was finally ready to leave the flat, he was taking on his long black coat when the inner phone rang. He rolled his eyes and sighed but didn't move.

'Answer it John. It's Mrs Hudson. I am sure she wants to say some annoying sentimental rubbish for our departure. I don't have the stomach for it right now.' Sherlock was frustrated because he felt he had wasted his time on such a ridiculously easy case.

'Sherlock, it's Molly.'

John's voice pulled him out of his thoughts. 'Hmm?' Sherlock turned towards him, not really paying attention.

'Dr Hooper. She is here, she says it's important.'

'I know who Molly is. What the hell does she want?' Sherlock frowned.

'She said she brought samples, but didn't tell me anything else,' John explained and Sherlock sighed, taking off his coat and sitting down on the dark grey armchair.

'If I have to endure one more personal meeting I will end up being like Burkeheart,' Sherlock said sarcastically and rolled his eyes as he heard John opening the door and Molly's agitated sputtering.

'Hello John. Sorry to disturb but I thought it was better if I brought them myself.'

'No problem, come in Molly.' John stepped aside to let her in.

'Uhm, hello Sherlock. I've found something.' Molly stepped closer not noticing that the detective became tensed as she was an arm length near. 'You have to see this.' Molly reached out a small tablet. Sherlock pressed himself into his armchair, not touch Molly in any way, but took the device. As he switched it on and took a closer look his eyes widened and he stood up, unconsciously ushering Molly away with his left arm.

'Oh, this is more than interesting.' A slight smile appeared on his face. 'John, call Mycroft, we're staying. There are two robots involved, it's hardly a coincidence. Two different artificial DNA. This is something bigger, much bigger.' He stepped to Molly and grabbed her shoulders and gingerly shook her. 'You are brilliant.' He stood there for a short second looking into her eyes just to realize what he had done. With a short hiss he got pale, literally jumped back three steps and wiped his hands into his black suit pants. As he looked at Molly breathing heavily he saw her blushing and disappointment spreading across her face. Looking away he frantically rushed into his bedroom and slammed the door.

Great, he did it again, Molly thought bitterly in embarrassment. She frowned at the closed door for a moment then turned to John. 'Well then...I have to go.' She said with a nervous grin not reaching her eyes.  
'Thank you for your help, Molly.' John smiled kindly but Molly presumed to discover something...amused on his face. 'He really appreciates it, I am sure.'

As Molly was walking towards the door, she suddenly turned and pulled her courage to ask what she had wanted to since their last encounter. 'He is weird among his people, isn't he?' she asked John with narrowed eyes.

'Yes, he is.' John nodded. 'He is a restless mind, an inquiring scientist. He is interested in the human body and mind and does experiments on his own. On Aurora it is more than weird. That society is based on robots in every area, which makes people lazy and unable to really cooperate with each other.'

'You are criticizing your own masters?' Molly asked, raising her eyebrows in surprise.

'I only state the facts.' John shrugged and smiled warmly, tilting his head.

'I hope we will meet while you are here. Bye then.' Molly shortly waved with a smile.

'I'm pretty sure we will. Bye Molly.' And as she stepped into the lift Molly saw again that odd, cheeky knowing look on the robot's face.


	5. The Game Is On

'It's not your concern anymore, dear brother,' Mycroft said flatly with raised eyebrows examining his always immaculate nails.

'Ah...Isn't it?' Sherlock raised his jaw stubbornly, narrowing his eyes.

'It's not. Get on the first merchant ship and come back. Your charge is over on Earth.' Mycroft's holographic image looked at Sherlock deep into his eyes. 'Am I understood?' he asked with the knowledge of his well-founded power over everything.

'Nope.' Sherlock pushed the off button with an excessive graceful movement, while a wide grin spread on his face, and blocked further calls from his brother. The case had became an eight after Molly's exploration but now, as Mycroft had forbidden him to investigate further, it became a nine, with a serious possibility to be a ten. Sherlock was over the moon.

'John, I need to get the database of the robots used on Earth.' Sherlock rushed out of his room, ruffling his hair excitedly. 'Not just the Aurorian ones.'

'It's classified, Sherlock.' John sighed as if it meant any problem to the detective.

'I know, but I know Mycroft's passwords too and I have copy lenses of his iris. So, please, just connect me to the inner network,' Sherlock said impatiently.

John nodded and took the small tablet to do as his owner demanded. After identifying himself to the system as Mycroft Holmes, the three dimensional folder structure appeared in front of him, almost occupying the whole room. The detective walked between the slightly glowing folders just to organize them for better construction by touching and pulling to the right places the holographic pictures of folders. When he finished, he uploaded the two genetic plans given by Molly and started to search for identical ones.

A few moments later the system alerted one concordant sample but it didn't find anything slightly similar to the other.

'This is interesting, very interesting,' Sherlock murmured under his breath, stroking his lower lip with his pointer finger. 'One DNA is match one of Eric Burkeheart's assistant robots, however the other... I can't find anything near similar to that.' Sherlock opened up some main folders by pointing at them with his fingers. 'These are the basic formulae of the artificial DNAs of the robots from each outer planet. This one is nothing like any of these. Its structure is completely different. This robot is not in the system, it's completely illegal.' Sherlock frowned, staring in front of him at the exaggerated plan of the DNA and whispered in front of himself. 'What are you?'

An hour later the consulting detective called Lestrade on his personal phone. The DI picked it up in surprise.

'What do I owe the pleasure, Mr Holmes?' he said ironically. 'I've already closed the case, Burkeheart is arrested.'

'Didn't my brother contact you?' Sherlock frowned.

'He did, and told me that Burkeheart's guilt was proven by you for the Auroran government so they no longer had an issue to get him to the court here.'

'Ah, I see. Of course, of course. Have a nice day, DI.' With that Sherlock hung up, leaving Lesrade staring at his phone asking himself if he had really heard the always arrogant jerk Sherlock Holmes wishing him a nice day.

Putting down the phone, Sherlock became furious. His always annoying brother had blackmailed him into going there to investigate, then just didn't cover up the truth in front of the local authorities. If this case was intriguing, then it was more than interesting now when Mycroft Holmes was indeed personally involved.

'The game is on, John. Go and buy us clothes, casual clothes, different clothes, which are usual here,' he said with a wide grin and disappeared in his room with a dismissive wave of his hands. John smiled too at Sherlock's enthusiasm and exited the flat's door. Sherlock Holmes will be undercover. Among people, real people. There was no distance Sherlock wouldn't cover for a case.

While John was away to buy accessories Sherlock was designing the details of his plan, pacing up and down across the living room. Every piece had to be precise and in place in the perfect time. As he was deep in his thoughts he didn't notice the ringing of his holophone for a long time but when it became disturbing enough to force him out of his mind palace he took a look at the caller ID. It was Irene Adler. Sherlock rolled his eyes but pushed the button to take the call.

'Why the hell are you staying there any longer?' Irene was furious; although she seemingly made a great effort to look pulled together.

'Good evening to you too.' Sherlock sighed with a bored face.

'Oh, don't do pleasantries, Mr Holmes, I don't need them. When are you planning to come back?' she asked huffily.

'As soon as the case is solved,' Sherlock answered, taking out his violin and fidgeting with it.

'You have been postponing our wedding for a year now. It's scandalous. The final date is next week. If you don't appear the government will punish you and what is worse, I will be in huge disgrace. We were appointed to each other by the Reproduction Centre; we should have had at least one offspring for now. Our genes will be a perfect match.'

Sherlock sighed; he had heard it all more than enough times. He knew his responsibilities as a citizen of Aurora, but he hated even the thought of the whole marriage and offspring thing. Of course he would never have to meet Irene personally, but it was expected to occasionally appear at social events together through holophone and Irene was annoying. Always in control, always commanding, appearance always immaculate, it fatigued Sherlock without end. About the offspring, he loathed the thought of having part of creating another lazy, boring idiot, a perfect citizen of the wonderful Aurora.

Irene sighed resignedly seeing Sherlock's motionless face. 'I know about the stolen body parts,' Irene stated with one raised eyebrow.

'Are you trying to blackmail me? How very you.' He sighed dramatically. 'You can prove nothing,' Sherlock answered without looking up from his violin but heard the woman's angry huff and suppressed a smile.

'I can talk to your brother.' This was Irene's last card. Mycroft Holmes had been proven to be a quite effective weapon against Sherlock, but not this time.

'Oh, don't be ridiculous. You've already talked to him. Mycroft was the one who told you I won't be back soon and to call me to force me to. But I won't until I finish this case. This is my last word.' With that Sherlock ended the call holding the last image of Irene for a second with surprise on her face. Sherlock couldn't help but smirk He liked to aggravate the people who annoyed him. His grin widened as he was thinking about how Mycroft would be under his thumb when he discovered his role in this whole case.

While he was deep in his thoughts John arrived with a bunch of packages and set them down on the kitchen table. Sherlock stood up and clapped his hands together with an excited expression.

'Now, John, let's be hidden in plain sight.' He stepped next to the table and started to frantically search the bags.

Molly was finally ready for home after a long dayshift. After she had changed her clothes and took her bag she passed through the double doors on the corridor only to bump into two strangers on the other side of it.

'Sorry,' she said without looking up at them, although she was certain it wasn't her fault, and rushed along to catch the tube. As she turned towards the stairs she took a glance from the corner of her eye towards the two still standing men looking at her direction. The shorter one had a massive moustache, ear long blond hair and was wearing brown trousers, a black jacket and a patterned blue scarf. He looked...well...eclectic. The taller one had a light grey turtleneck sweater, a dark blue cardigan over it, dark grey trousers and a flat hat over his eyes. They were a strange couple, to say the least. Molly shrugged and continued her walk towards the exit.

As Sherlock and John stared after Molly Hooper who had almost pushed them both over storming out from the corridor of the morgue, Sherlock murmured under his breath.

'We must have a damn good disguise.'

'What now?' asked John looking at Sherlock expectantly.

'We follow her and talk to her in her home.'

John nodded and they started to walk back, following the pathologist. In the street when Sherlock saw Molly taking the moving stairs leading to the tube he took a deep breath.

'I take a cab, you follow her. We already know her address, but we cannot be sure if she is goingdirectly home. Inform me if she changes her destination.' With that Sherlock took an automatic cab and popped in. John turned towards the moving stairs and quickened his pace.

As Molly was sitting on the tube, her nose deep in her tablet reading some old romantic novel, she had an itchy feeling on the back of her head. First she tried to lay her fears but the strange feeling was getting stronger. She suddenly shot up her head, gazed in the direction of the crowd at the end of the car and then she saw him. It was the short man with a moustache she saw among the other passengers looking at her but quickly turning his head in the other direction. Molly's eyes went wide; her breathing was getting faster but forced herself to look down again at her small device and tried to take some deep breaths to calm down. After a few seconds she felt the courage to take a better look, but when she lifted her gaze the strange man wasn't there anymore. Molly got scared. After being involved in this mysterious robot-killer case she really didn't know what to expect. She remained in her seat until the last moment before the doors were closed at the next stop and practically jumped out of the car. She ran as fast as she could through the crowd on the moving pavement which was slowly bringing people outside from the station. All she heard was her heartbeat drumming in her ears and some indignant shouting from the people she passed. When she thought her stalkers were certainly dropped behind she slowed down and started to walk casually while was trying to regain her normal breathing pattern. She decided to walk the last mile towards her flat through the park.

As Molly opened the door of her flat she sighed in relief. Finally home, after this long and tiring day. She dropped her bag down on the small counter and dragged herself towards the bath box to have a short shower before wrapping herself in a fluffy blanket on her bed to continue her romantic novel. The memory of her panicked running away from the stranger had grown distant; it seemed a little bit silly now. As she turned to grab some comfy clothes from the cupboard she froze in the middle of her movement. There he was, leaning against the wall with folded arms, the other man, the tall one. A short scream escaped her mouth when the man took off his hat and started to speak in his low baritone.

'Hello, Molly!' She heard and finally realized that the man standing in front of her was no other than the alien Sherlock Holmes.

'Oh, God! What the hell are you doing here?' Molly breathed deeply to calm down, resting her hands above her heart. 'The other with that ridiculous moustache was John, wasn't he? Jesus!' She rolled her eyes and flopped down on her bed.

'How can you people live in a flat like that? It's smaller than my bathroom,' that was all Sherlock said looking around appalled and smoothed his hair combing it back with one hand.

After a few moments of awkward silence spent staring at each, other Molly cleared her throat. 'How were you able to go down to the street among people? I thought it was incredibly difficult for you.' She looked at Sherlock.

'It was. I spent almost the whole time in my mind palace.' When Sherlock saw Molly's confused face he added, 'It's a kind of mental method to store information.' He knocked on his temple smiling slightly. If Molly was stunned by his presence, now she was absolutely dumbfounded. Sherlock Holmes had just smiled at her.

A light knock on the door put Molly off her astonishment. She automatically turned and walked towards the plain white door to open it. She wasn't even surprised to see John smiling under his awful moustache in his unusual outfit.

'Thank you, Molly! You are bloody fast. I couldn't follow you, though I am not allowed to push pastpeople,' he said with raised eyebrows and a small smile as he entered the small flat and stood next to Sherlock. Molly closed the door and turned towards them with a questioning expression, folding her arms.

'So, what do you need?'

'I want to get to the crime scene, but I can't ask Lestrade because I am not on the case anymore. Well, not even unofficially. He doesn't know about the two different DNA's. He still thinks it was Burkeheart. The case is closed, but they are wrong. We both know that. An innocent man is under arrest. Would you help me, Molly Hooper?' he asked smiling again with one raised eyebrow.

Molly frowned up at Sherlock, processing what she had just been asked to do.


	6. Everybody Lies

'Hi Greg! It's Molly, Molly Hooper!' Molly tried to speak easily despite her nervousness. She was just going to lie to a friend and she hated it.

'Hi Molly. How can I help you?' Lestrade's voice was loud; he was trying to over shout his children's loud caper.

'Sorry for bothering you in this late hour but I am stuck with something. I'm calling because I was wondering if there was a possibility to check the crime scene of the Burkeheart case for samples to the court.'

'Didn't Anderson collect samples of everything? Andrew, stop hitting the door with that hammer! Sorry, kids.'

'Well, yes, he did a wonderful job. It's just... I...uhm...I've ruined some of them.' Molly winced at the phone.

'God, Molly. This is a murder case!' Lestrade sighed deeply.

'I know. I am so sorry. It will never happen again, I promise,' Molly said in a low voice filled with guilt.

'Fine. I'll call Tom, to let you into the Aurorian Embassy. You know him. The tall guy with the curly hair.'

'Uhm, yes, thanks Greg. You are saving my life.'

'Just hurry. Okay? Andrew what did I tell you about that hammer? Sorry, I have to go. Bye.'

'Sure...' Lestrade hung up before she could say goodbye.

Molly put down her phone and turned towards Sherlock and John, waiting for them to tell her the next step of this brilliant, idiotic plan.

'Let's go,' Sherlock commanded and he was already at the door.

'Wait, it's just me who is allowed to enter the crime scene. You are not.' Molly shrugged. 'Just tell me what I have to look for.'

'No. You go in, distract ...Tom?' He frowned trying to remember that not at all important bit. 'While we sneak in.'

'Sneak in?' Molly was angrily shaking her head in disbelief. 'Let me inform you that the building alone has more security cameras than the whole city put together. It is your building.'

'Just entrust the security system to us. Now, let's go.' He put his hat over his eyes and whirled out of the flat. Molly stood there, staring after him with dropped jaw. John cleared his throat to pull Molly out of her state. She shook herself and turned to John who gestured towards the door.

After you, Molly.'

She huffed and stepped outside, but on the treshold she turned and lifted her hand to point at John's moustache. 'Do something with this. This is... ridiculous. Everybody will stare at you.'

John raised his eyebrows but obeyed. Suddenly Molly saw the moustache getting shorter, and stubble appeared on the bottom part of his face. Her jaw was on the floor again.

'I have built-in facial hair, so my appearance can be changed if it is required,' he explained. 'Is it better?'

'Yes,' was all she could say in a hoarse voice. She took her bag and turned to follow Sherlock, shaking her head in disbelief.

Getting out of the automatic cab, the three of them parted. Molly went in; Sherlock and John hid in the next alley, waiting.

As Molly stepped in the large building through the shiny metal door, she found herself in a huge lobby full of sweet roses, jasmine and trees bending under the weight of the ripe fruits. It was wonderful and stunning. Molly closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath to enjoy the scent. Aurorian was the only Embassy which was altered to local visitors, thanks to Burkheart.

'Nice, isn't it?' she heard and opened her eyes to see Tom, the officer in charge. They had already met a few times and Molly always had the feeling that he wanted to start a conversation, but didn't know about what.

'Oh! Hi Tom. It's magical here. I wish we had such beautiful plants on every street of London. Can you imagine how beautiful would it be?'

'Yes, yes, indeed,' he answered looking at his feet.

'Actually, I am here to...' Molly started, shyly smoothing her ponytail with one hand.

'Of course, of course. The DI called,' he answered excitedly and waved towards a huge ancient looking wooden door which was designed to be an elemental part of the forest around them. 'The lift is there. The code is 583. Do you need anything?'

'Well, actually as you ask... I wouldn't mind a coffee. I had a horribly long shift and you know how it is...'

'Oh, of course, I just... I'll just go in there and bring you some.' He quickly disappeared behind the wall. 'Black, two sugars, isn't it?' he shouted from inside.

'Yes,' Molly answered loudly while was turning around to see if Sherlock and John were already in. She didn't see either of them at first, but quickly turned back with a wide smile to see Tom bringing her coffee.

'Thank you, Tom.' Molly smiled at him after finishing her drink with one big sip. He responded with a wide grin. 'I'll be down in an hour.' She waved as she started to walk towards the wooden door.

As Molly entered the lift she sighed in relief. She was wondering if Sherlock and John could have gotten in when she was interrupted by a harsh whisper.

'Step backwards, Molly.' She did as she was told and looked up to the voice's direction to see the detective straining between the two longer walls of the lift just under the ceiling. After Molly stepped aside Sherlock jumped down elegantly like a cat. 'Where is John?' Molly asked panicky.

'Hmm...He had a minor row with the security system, but he will manage,' said Sherlock while was smoothing his blue cardigan. 'The plan is you go into the inner room and collect samples. When I call you, you finish and step inside the lift. Is it clear?'

Molly nodded and swallowed hard. 'Where will you be?' she asked in a low voice.

'In Burkeheart's office.' Sherlock rolled his eyes as he was tired of her.

'But you said you needed to get into the crime scene,' Molly objected with wide eyes.

'Obviously, I lied,' he merely sighed his answer.

'But why?' Molly became angry; she didn't want to be a part of a break in to an official building.

'Would you help me if I told you the truth?' Sherlock snapped with clear annoyance in his eyes turning to face her.

'No.' she whispered backing, tears filling her eyes. There was no turning back now.

'Well, that's why.' As he was looking at the pathologist he became confused. 'What are you doing?'

'Nothing,' she said between two sobs.

'It's not nothing.' Sherlock pointed at a tear on her cheek.

'Okay, I am crying.' Molly snapped at him shakily.

'Well, I can see that.'

'It's a sort of emotional reaction you clearly haven't seen in your whole life yet.' Molly tried to stop sobbing with surprisingly big success and straightened herself.

'Clearly.' Sherlock looked away and cleared his throat. 'You are exceptional, Molly Hooper.'

Molly snorted at that. 'I can assure you, I am not.'

The lift's automatic voice interrupted the uncomfortable silence between them. 'Gate 583. Thank you for visiting Aurora's Embassy. Have a nice time.'

Molly exited the lift without looking at Sherlock. He stood there for exactly one and a half minutes and was feeling a small lump in his throat. He took a deep breath to get rid of it and shrugged. Now, he was concentrating on work completely.

As Molly left the small foyer in front of the lift she couldn't stand to stop and look around. This part of the building had a huge lobby too, but here, instead of fruit trees, were huge pines with deep green pine needles and light brown cones on them. The scent was fresh, clear and filled with the aroma of the trees. In here it was colder.

As she followed the police signs Molly heard distant gurgle and as she took pace after pace the sound became louder. When she reached the door she ought to open Molly saw the source of the loud sound, a huge waterfall. It was beautiful as the crystal clean water seethed down on the rocks and ended in its own white cloud. There was so much water, she had never seen this much of it. Molly wished she could spend more time there just watching, hearing and smelling, but she had to go and fake to collect samples. She sighed deeply and entered the inner room.

Sherlock found Burkeheart's office easily, he had memorised the plan of the whole building previously. The computer was in the middle of a small desk along with old-fashioned sheets of paper and pencils. Sherlock frowned as he picked up one; these kinds of things were very rare even on the outer planets. Nobody had used such things really for centuries. Some wealthy collector had some old paper, pens and pencils but nobody used them anymore.

'Why did you use these, Burkeheart?' he murmured under his breath. 'Why didn't you use your computer? It's faster and the data would never be lost.' While Sherlock was whispering his questions, he started to search Burkeheart's desk and found a locked drawer. 'Ah...of course it's mechanical. Nobody can pick a lock nowadays. Except me.' His wide grin almost reached his ears. It took a few seconds but as he opened the drawer he saw it was full of papers. Folding open one of them a section of a two dimensional map appeared in front of him. It was of New London. Nothing was particularly interesting on it but one thing. Next to the flat curve of the dome, defending the city from the deadly air outside, there was a strong red line, with a number on it. The number was 34. 'Of course you used paper because you didn't want it to get into the interplanetary system. Hmm...Clever.' Sherlock smiled contently. 'Well, not clever enough.' With that he took the whole bunch of papers and hid it between his shirt and cardigan, closed the drawer and took out his phone to dial Molly's number. Sherlock Holmes was sure that he had found what he was looking for.

When Molly and Sherlock were finally in the lift again Molly couldn't help but look at the detective next to her. His content smile reached his green eyes he was glancing back at her.

'I assume you've found what you were searching for.'

'Absolutely.' He lifted one eyebrow, nodded gracefully and proudly tapped the left side of his cardigan.

Molly knew from his expression that he was keen to answer her questions about how brilliantly he discovered what he had found but she wasn't going to give him the pleasure, so she maintained her silence for the rest of the trip. Just before the end of it Sherlock jumped and grabbed the upper end of the massive antique wood veneer and effortlessly swung himself up to the position he had been when Molly had first entered the cabin almost an hour prior. Molly couldn't help but snort at his showing off. It doesn't matter if they are from the Earth or from Aurora, men are always the same, she thought.

As Molly got out, she walked towards Tom, to say goodbye and of course to distract him while Sherlock could sneak out. Molly tiredly leaned against a rail to make Tom turn and put his back to the lift.

'Thank you, Tom. I hope I didn't cause any problems.'

'Oh, no. Not at all. It is always good to see someone during nightshift.' Tom cleared his throat. 'Especially if it's you.' He suddenly found something very interesting on his shoes and Molly saw the massive blush on his ears. She felt her own cheeks becoming hot. Tom was a nice guy, what a shame was that she was currently tricking him to let someone to break into the building he was supposed to watch.

'How is work?' she asked, starting a conversation.

'It's good, good.' He stopped for a moment. 'Listen, I was wondering if you want to have some coffee,' Tom blurted out suddenly, still examining his shoes.

'Oh, thanks one was enough for tonight.' Molly smiled. Tom looked up at her sheepishly but had the courage to step closer to Molly.

'I mean, maybe the two of us, somewhere else?'

Molly giggled nervously and looked away only to see Sherlock silently flitting among the trees to avoid entering the main area. As he took a glance towards the two of them he accidentally bumped into a small tree. All the big, ripe apples started to fall down from the tree causing loud bumps on the ground. Molly's eyes got wide as Tom furrowed his brow and started to turn his head to the sound's direction. She suddenly dropped her arms around his neck and pulled down the tall man into a tight embrace.

'I would be happy to have a coffee with you, Tom,' she exclaimed a little bit louder than necessary. When she saw over Tom's shoulder that Sherlock was out of sight, Molly awkwardly tapped Tom's back and let the totally embarrassed policeman go. She felt that she must have been equally blushed from head to toe. She stepped back, smiling shyly and smoothed her ponytail with one hand.

'I'll see you around then, bye.' She waved and had to make a great effort not to run through the hall outside instead of slowly walking. Just before opening the front door, she heard Tom saying a husky 'bye'.

When Molly arrived at the alley where they had departed previously, John and Sherlock were already there, holding a cab. She silently slipped in and turned to face the window. She felt John sitting next to her and heard Sherlock speak.

'Baker Street.'

'Could you take me home first, please?' Molly asked quietly still holding her gaze outside the window.

'I thought you would want to see what we got,' Sherlock said cheerfully. 'Aaahh. That was fun.' He leaned back and chuckled, remembering the moment he had to run out of the building.

'No, I don't,' Molly said faintly. Sherlock's face clouded over but he didn't object.

'Cab, change the destination to Rubik Street.'

When Molly got out of the cab, she only managed to murmur a short 'good night' before heading home. She was angry and exhausted to death. Fortunately the next day was her day off.

'What's the matter with her?' asked Sherlock under his breath as he was looking after Molly from the cab.

'You've hurt her feelings,' John said shortly.

'Feelings?' Sherlock snorted in disgust.

'Yes and before you want something from her again you probably should apologise. You've just lied to her.'

'And what? Everybody lies.' Sherlock rolled his eyes.

'She risked a lot to help you. She trusted you.' John tried to hold the conversation in the right path.

Sherlock suddenly turned to face John and frowned with a questioning expression. 'Why would she do that?'


	7. Breakthrough

When Sherlock and John finally entered their flat it was half past midnight. The detective paced straight to the kitchen, ruffling his hair he had just freed from under the hat, and soundly flopped down the bunch of papers on the table.

'Now let's see what we've got!' Sherlock impatiently opened the layouts up to put together the pieces, and with John's effective help New London's whole basic plan soon lay in front of them on the kitchen table. The red indications became more eye-catching than before. Sherlock ran his fingers above the sheets on the line of the significant signs while was thinking aloud.

'There are exactly two hundred of them, the numbers show it precisely. Although every tenth is bolder than the others. They are more important. What are these?' As he bent to take a closer look, John silently pointed at one red line. 'Yes, this one. This has a red circle around it. It's gate number 39. Why is that one extraordinary?'

'They are all behind a large building but none of them is residential. Mainly offices and stores and there are a few belonging to the government.'

Sherlock frowned at John's statements; his eyes were checking all the accentuated parts. As he straightened up, taking off his blue cardigan and throwing it onto the back of one of the chairs, a cocky smile appeared on his face and began to grow wider. 'Yes, indeed John. Good observation. What else do you see?' Sherlock asked pacing up and down behind John, still smirking.

'All of them are at the end of the main roads or very close to them.' John continued to look at the plans.

'Yeees, really good. What else?' Sherlock nodded contently with narrowed eyes.

'Around every point there are more CCTV cameras than the other parts of the city.'

'Very good. Any deduction?' Sherlock asked cheerfully.

John straightened and sighed dramatically. 'You know it's not my area to have intuitions and make deductions, so come out with it,' John answered, waiting for Sherlock to elaborate.

Sherlock was like a child who couldn't wait to open up a Christmas present, and as if he had been waiting just for the final word, turned quickly towards John and marched to the kitchen table from the living room.

'They are gates! Gates to the outside, John.' He triumphantly put his hands on his hips and lifted his chin. Then suddenly he bent down to grab a few papers had landed on the floor previously.

'Look at these John. They are calculations of the composition of a volatile matter.' He frantically put down the sheets next to each other on the table. 'First I didn't understand why would anyone hide these calculations of simple, breathable air, but now it's obvious. The air outside is clean John, they wouldn't have to live under this horrible dome in those can-like flats. The planet had cleaned itself in these few hundred years. And our government knows it, but doesn't want to reveal it. Rebecca had unlimited access to Burkheart's office, because they were lovers, she could easily find the plans, and maybe she wanted to spread the information. Burkheart knew that he had made a mistake, and should have silenced Rebecca, before anyone noticed his slip up, but because of sentiment he didn't. Eric knew that Rebecca was in danger knowing about all of this, so he convinced her to have a gun with herself, which she was trying to use against the attacking robot, completely useless as it turned out. I would say Mycroft sent a special robot to kill that woman, but if he did, he wouldn't send me here to investigate. He would know I could get to the truth.' Sherlock rubbed his temple and started to pace up and down again.

'He sent me here to reveal the truth, that our killer was a robot, and to find the actual murderer. He knew Eric Burkheart was not guilty, but after I solved the case, Mycroft let him to get arrested. Why?' Sherlock tapped his fingers on his lip while pacing in the flat with narrowed eyes.

'If this gets out, and people here get to know that, the government would be forced by them to ban every humanoid robot from to the planet.' John added following his master with his eyes.

'Obviously, but it would be only a small inconvenience compared to the spoiled mercantile connections between the Earth and the Aurora. When I told Mycroft that a robot was the killer, both he and I thought that it had to be some fatal error in its brain to be able to commit this kind of thing. A coincidence. It can happen. Burkheart was expendable on the altar of the great cause, and he assumed the responsibility knowing he made a big mistake by letting information out.' Sherlock turned towards the large window and looked out to see the lifelike picture of a landscape silently for a few seconds. 'But when I informed him about the second robot, which shouldn't exist according to the interplanetary database, he ordered me to drop the case and go home immediately.' Sherlock dramatically turned and marched to John and grabbed his shoulders. 'It's bigger than I thought, John. Somebody used a renegade robot to kill Rebecca Hammerstone, to silence her, and as circumstantial gain sent Eric Burkheart to prison. The fact that Mycroft is trying to stop me proves that he knows who is behind this. Aurora's government knows about the gates, but doesn't want to reveal them to the Earth, because if people here are freed from under the domes the planet would be able to be self-sufficient just like the outer words.' A smug smile appeared on Sherlock's face as he was walking towards his bedroom. 'Prepare for battle John, we are going to see that gate 9,' he shouted from inside.

Molly was sitting at a table, fidgeting with a dark yellow napkin in one of the most expensive coffee shops in London. It was in the middle of Hyde Park surrounded by a few real trees and small flowers. She was sure Tom couldn't normally afford a place like that, but it seemed he really wanted to awe her. This only made the situation worse.

'They have twenty four kinds of coffees and half of them are not artificial.' Molly looked at the cheerful Tom with a weak smile. He pulled the chair out and sat down opposite to Molly clearing his throat. 'Have you chosen already?' Tom asked as he saw the waiter coming.

'Uhmm... yes. I'd like an Aurorian Black, please,' she said, studying the menu deeply.

'Yes, Madam, excellent choice. And what can I bring you, sir?' The waiter turned towards Tom who was looking into the lists of coffees with furrowed brows, but Molly's eyes were no longer glued to the menu instead she stared at the owner of the familiar voice. She gasped as John winked at her with a half smile and nodded after he got Tom's order.

'What's wrong, Molly? Are you all right? You look pale.' Tom touched her arm to get her attention after the waiter was gone.

'Hm? Yes, I...uhm...I just thought I saw a familiar face.' Molly smiled at Tom, and asked him about his day at work. When John came back with the two coffees Tom had explained his plans about buying a new car with many extras. She didn't dare to look at John, only murmured a silent 'thank you'. As she raised her cup to take a sip she saw a piece of paper on the saucer. Her first thought was how ancient it must have been, then the second was who had been the idiot who used it as a coaster instead of taking it behind an exhibition case. The answer came quickly as she lifted the paper and saw the writing on the back of it.

He is an idiot and he bores you. Main entrance in ten minutes. I need your help. SH

Molly quickly tucked the paper into her pocket while Tom was occupied with his coffee and was trying not to smile too sheepishly.

'I've just got a message from work that I'm needed. Could you forgive me?' Molly looked at Tom with not faked compassion; she hated to lie but she hated to hurt someone's feelings more. He blinked a few times, then smiled sadly.

'Of course, just go, we can try this another time.'

'Sure, sure. Bye Tom. Thanks for the coffee.' Molly was already on her feet, and was trying not to look too happy to be free. She headed towards the main entrance suppressing her grin; after all, she was still mad at that alien. But somehow she wasn't able not to think about their adventure the day before.

As she stepped out of the park through the main entrance she saw John standing next to a cab, smiling and waving towards her. Molly calmly walked to him and got in as he opened the door for her by lightly touching the frame of it. Sherlock was already in there, strictly pulling away to the other corner of the car. Now he wasn't wearing a hat, and his hair was parted on the left side, tight to his head.

'I am still cross.' Molly sighed dramatically.

'Yes, ... yes. John told me that an apology is in order.'

'So?'

Hi sighed. 'So, please accept my apologies.' Sherlock closed his eyes as it took such a huge effort to say sorry.

Molly nodded. 'You could have texted me.'

'It was much more fun.' A wide grin spread across his face, Molly couldn't help but smile herself turning her face towards the window. As the cab started she broke the silence.

'Why am I here?'

'To help me, obviously.'

'Care to elaborate? This time tell the truth, please.' Said Molly ironically.

Sherlock sighed and started to tell the story about the plans, the gates and his brother. 'So yesterday I and John found the broken gate. It can be approached through a store, a female lingerie store. This is where you come in. We tried to get in, but we weren't allowed to go into the fitting room, for obvious reasons. There was nothing in our size,' he added.

Molly first had to pick up her jaw from the floor. All she had heard in the last five minutes was simply unbelievable. Gates? Outside? Under the real sky? She suddenly felt sick, everything was so confusing.

On Earth practically everybody suffered from agoraphobia. Generations lived their lives from birth to death under the dome, surrounded by visible borders, never leaving the planet. Even leaving their home city was rare. So for Molly stepping from under the protection of the dome into the wild outside world was unimaginable. Anyway everybody knew that the air was poisonous outside, full of radioactivity.

'Trust me; the air is absolutely clear and healthy.' Sherlock said like he was reading in her mind.

'How do you know it?' Molly frowned at him.

'It's obvious.' He shrugged. 'Will you help me? It is for the whole population of Earth.'

'You don't care about Earth's people,' Molly half questioned.

'Of course I don't,' Sherlock snapped at her. 'But you do.' After few minutes of tense silence Molly sighed and nodded slowly.

'Let's do it,' Molly said slowly, making Sherlock smiling widely in excitement.

Sherlock told Molly the whole plan, and by the time they got out of the car Molly knew everything she would have to do.

When Sherlock and Molly entered the shop it was full of people since it was lunchtime, and every women working in the neighbourhood was now wandering amongst the shelves of the lingerie store. In one hand it was good to be able to hide in the crowd, but on the other hand Sherlock had to take a few deep breaths to calm himself down in every minute. Being among so many people was still horribly inconvenient for him and he became tense every time they passed somebody. Molly saw his fist constantly clenching until white in the effort to remain in place.

John stayed outside to find and block the security system again. Molly was wondering if it wasn't forbidden for robots to break the law, but anyway, that wouldn't be the weirdest thing about John.

As they were walking among the shelves Sherlock picked a pair of sunny yellow underwear and ungracefully pushed it over to Molly.

'This will do, now let's go to try on,' he said shortly and gestured to the surprised Molly to move on towards the fitting rooms. Molly looked at him then back to fabric.

'How did you know my measurements?'

'Observation. Now move,' he hissed looking around to see if anyone heard them. 'Room 6, remember.'

As Molly reached the door of the said room, she pushed the opening button but it was locked. She turned to look at Sherlock in panic.

'Calm down. Go and get another one, I'll wait here.' Molly nodded but didn't move. 'Go.'

When she got back room 6 was already vacant and Sherlock was nervously tapping his fingers against his thights.

'Brown? Really? Old women wear things like this, don't they?' Sherlock commented as she passed him.

'How would you know?' she murmured angrily under her breath.

When they were in, Sherlock quickly closed the door and was frantically searching for buttons or touch pad or anything to open the back of the cabin. As he was looking for the opening Molly hung the lingerie and sat down on the small chair keyed to the wall releasing a tired sigh. Sherlock sensed her movement from the corner of his eyes and stiffened. 'What if it opens for sound?' he muttered.

Molly snorted. 'Yeah, like Gate 39, open,' she said ironically, rolling her eyes but her chuckle was interrupted by the slowly sliding sound of the wall behind Sherlock.

'Ah, brilliant!' Sherlock whispered with a lighted face and simply stepped outside but turned after not seeing Molly following.

'What? Ahaa, you are scared of the open sky.' It was more statement than a question. Sherlock frowned and took a few steps back towards her. 'Easy, it's not the outer gate yet.' Molly lifted her eyes to his and silently nodded, than took a few steps forward.

'Trust me, Molly. Do you trust me?' Molly nodded again. 'Fine,' Sherlock whispered. 'Then come on already!' he demanded with much less patience.

Molly took a big shaky breath, put together all her courage and stepped beside Sherlock in front of the outer door.

This one was similar to the doors in Bart's opening to access to special areas but it was made of some kind of composite metal instead of glass. There was a small panel on the flat wall of the dome. As Molly was staring with dropped jaw at the gate dividing her and the planet's real existence she realised that she had never had the opportunity to actually touch the dome. She slowly reached out her hand and lightly touched the smooth surface of the seemingly thin shell. For her biggest surprise her hand didn't reach material. Molly quickly pulled back her hand. All she felt was a light tingle on her fingertip, but what she saw was even stranger. A beautiful bright electric wave ran away from the point her finger reached the dome as far as she could see.

'Don't touch it!' Sherlock shouted turning his face to her from the panel. He was furious. 'How can you people be so stupid? Just stay where you are. Don't move, don't touch and most importantly do not think!' He turned back to examine the device further then pulled out a strange glove from his pocket, pulled it on and pushed some buttons. A few years back Sherlock had hacked his brother's cosmetic robot to steal his fingerprints during a manicure and made a glove for himself. One never could know when one would be in need of limitless access to the government database. The previously red light around the panel turned white and a smooth voice greeted the intruders.

'Welcome, Mr Holmes. Please wait for the door has fully slid to the right, and then step inside. Have a nice time.' The silky voiced machine went silent.

As soon as the door was done, Sherlock waved to Molly to follow. She obeyed without a word, still being shocked by his previous outburst.

As Molly stepped outside with trembling knees and shaking hands, she lost her breath. There were plants and trees everywhere; it was the most beautiful sight she had ever seen. There were uncountable varieties of the colour green, bigger or smaller groups of flowers.

From the corner of her eye Molly saw Sherlock fiddling with something. As she turned towards him Molly saw that he had taken out the filters from his nostrils and took a deep breath.

'Why do you take them out? We are still on Earth.'

'We are no longer under that horrible cap. That whole place smells like people. Bah!' Sherlock winced than took a deep breath again.

'I am 'people' as well,' Molly muttered under her breath but Sherlock heard it and tensed.

'You don't count,' he said simply without looking at her and started to walk into the wood with determined paces in the thick undergrowth.

Molly quickly followed not wanting to get lost. She had never seen anything like this place. Maybe something in the museum years back with her father. There were huge trees everywhere, a few of them had fruits, but Molly didn't recognise any of them. Their sweet scent reminded her of the early morning walks with her dad in Hyde Park when she was a little girl, when everything seemed untouched and wildly alive after the watering in the dawn.

As they reached a place where there were fewer trees, Molly involuntarily looked up and suddenly forgot to breathe. The blue sky seemed to be endless above her head. Now she recognised that the trees had formed a protective canopy prior, but without them there were nothing to separate her from the opened sky, from the open space. She felt as if she could easily fall through it, not stopping until reaching the emptiness of space. Molly gasped audibly which made Sherlock tgive her his attention.

'Molly,' he said, but there was no reaction from her. He frowned and stepped closer to the woman standing still, looking up with wide eyes. 'Molly,' he repeated louder. Still nothing. 'Molly, look at me. Now,' he ordered in a loud voice. 'Look into my eyes.' Molly slowly lowered her face to stare into his face still with wide eyes and opened mouth. 'Good, good. Now breathe. Take deep breaths.' Molly closed her mouth and concentrated on Sherlock's eyes. 'Calm down, everything is going to be fine. You have nothing to fear. Do you understand?' After a long moment Molly started to blink and breathe properly.

'Are you all right?' Sherlock asked slowly. Molly briefly nodded. 'You had a little shock. Don't look up, just concentrate on the ground.' Molly nodded again because words didn't come, she felt her tongue glued to her palate.

'Let's go, if you feel dizzy or anything strange let me know. Just. Don't. Look. Up,' said Sherlock slowly in his calm deep voice and went along.

Molly stumbled after him keeping his eyes strictly on the ground. They had been walking for a few minutes when Molly asked in a husky voice 'What are we searching for?'

'Mee-ee.' Instead of Sherlock's deep baritone she heard a high playful but mocking voice. Sherlock quickly turned around to check his surroundings. His eyes were everywhere, but obviously he wasn't as familiar with the place as their stalker. Molly automatically pulled towards him, breathing shakily, searching safety. 'Well, well. What a cute little thing you got yourself and you have not been here for a few weeks. What a waste!'

'Who are you?' the detective shouted without directing his voice in particular.

'Your biggest fan, Mr Sherlock Holmes.'

'Fan?' Sherlock furrowed his brow.

'I won't repeat myself,' the voice said sulkily and sighed dramatically. A dark brown haired man stepped out of the woods, in a black expensive glossy suit, his hands in his pockets.

'Let's say I am highly impressed by your work. So clever, sooo very clever, Sherlock. Though unfortunately my employers aren't so enthusiastic.' His light easy expression suddenly turned into something else. There was cruelty, madness and anger in it as he was walking towards him, Molly backed a step in fear.

'If you don't stop prying Sherlock Holmes, I will destroy you, I will burn you.' He beamed to get uncomfortably close to Sherlock's face, who winced at the proximity but was able to fight the urge to flinch.

'Who are you?'

'Your worst nightmare, Sherlock Holmes.' His voice and face was relaxed and playful again. But when he obliviously waved his hand Sherlock saw Molly's whole body covered by small red spots of light. 'Stop. Prying.' He narrowed his eyes hissing his last two words and with another wave of his hand he apparently gave the sign to one sniper and Molly collapsed unconscious right next to Sherlock. As he glanced down at her he saw deep red blood spreading on her colourful blouse right under her ribs.

'Oh, and tell your brother, that Jim Moriarty sends his lo-ove.' Again the cheerful mad voice. With that he disappeared into the woods. Sherlock hesitated a moment not being able to decide if he should follow Moriarty, but a second later he knelt down beside Molly searching for any sign of life in the pathologist. He quickly grabbed the small woman into his arms and started to run towards the gate they came through.

He passed through the now almost empty lingerie store with the bleeding Molly in his arms As he passed the stunned shop assistants, his blood was stomping in his ears, his adrenaline was higher than ever. This was not the kind of game he liked to play; it was not about puzzles or theories anymore. It was about life and death, and it had to be stopped.

However the biggest part of his brain was occupied by the worries about what would happen if John hadn't gotten his message or it was already too late.


	8. Masterplan

'Irene, I've told you I depart when I am done here.' Sherlock sighed tiredly sitting in his armchair not really looking at Irene's holographic figure in front of him. 'Let me be, till then, would you?'

'Uhm...Morning,' came the small voice from behind, from the door between the kitchen and the living room and Sherlock turned his face automatically at Molly's direction, but regretted it in the next minute.

'What? Is she actually there? In your flat? In your pyjamas?' Irene was furious, her eyes gone wide her fist clenched.

Molly apologetically winced at Sherlock and quickly backed into the spare bedroom she had occupied the previous night. When Sherlock looked back at Irene for his biggest surprise she was composed and looked calm.

'So as it seems that you've got involved with that on that filthy planet, I'd rather call off the wedding myself.' Irene lifted her jaw proudly but didn't hang up yet, she was waiting for his denial obviously.

'My pleasure.' Sherlock merely rolled his eyes and suppressed a grin. Annoying Irene was almost as amusing as doing it to Mycroft.

'Anyway, your and your brother's genes are almost identical, he will be a better donor, he, at least, doesn't have your oddities.' Irene grimaced in disgust.

'He will be extraordinary delighted.' Sherlock sighed in boredom. 'Now, if you'll excuse me I have things to do.'

'Yes, I saw,' Irene snapped at him mockingly, and then a moment later her figure was gone.

Sherlock walked into the kitchen, where Molly was gathering her coat and bag, and he leaned against the doorframe.

'Oh..uhm...sorry for...interrupting previously. I didn't mean to...you know,' Molly stammered.

'It was only my fiancée, well...apparently my ex-fiancée.' Sherlock waved dismissively trying not to show too much of the relief he felt.

'Oh, I am so sorry. Do you want me to talk to her, maybe I could straight things out?' Molly asked worriedly.

'God, no! Things are just fine for me in this way,' he quickly objected.

'Well, she looked sad. Maybe you've hurt her feelings.' Molly fidgeted with the hem of her brown coat.

'Hah, feelings? We don't do feelings, Molly. Remember?' Sherlock exclaimed so loud Molly snapped up her head.

'Yes, I've almost forgotten,' Molly murmured and smiled nervously. 'Sherlock?'

'Hmm?'

'What happened yesterday?'

'You probably remember the man in black suit.' Molly nodded. 'You got shot, we brought you here, John healed you, he has exceptional medical skills I have to say, and took you into the bed in his room, since he does not really use it.'

'Hmm, that's it?'

'Yep.' He stiffened then sputtered his words like he would consider such things as wasting of time. 'Doctor Hooper, thanks for your help, we no longer need your assistance,' Sherlock said coldly, nodded, and turned to sit back into his armchair, and probably went to his mind palace with his hands under his chin and eyes closed.

'Well, thanks for the pyjamas,' she muttered, smiled shortly and turned to leave as John opened the door for her but before she entered the lift she whispered a question to John, 'He brought me out in his arms, didn't he?'

'Yes, Molly, he did.' John smiled genuinely.

'Uhm..Good bye then, John.' She nodded with a shy smile and stepped into the lift.

'Good bye, Molly.'

As soon as Molly was gone Sherlock dialled his brother. They hadn't spoken since Mycroft ordered him home but he denied to go and blocked Mycroft's calls.

'What the hell have you done? Irene wants to marry me. Do you have any idea what a great effort it has been to avoid this for decades? Now you screw this up for me,' Mycroft was shouting, he must have been just ended a tense and really polite conversation with Irene.

'If you've finished, I have a business offer for you.' Sherlock was examining his nails impassively raising an eyebrow at his brother at the end of his sentence.

Mycroft took a few calming breaths and straightened his white suit. 'I am all ears.'

'You take surveillance on Dr Molly Hooper, pathologist, St Bart's and I tell you who broke the gate you are so desperately trying to keep in secret.'

'What about you coming back and marry Irene finally as well?'

'Hmm...Nope.' Sherlock looked expectantly at his annoyed brother with one raised eyebrow.

'Fine,' Mycroft blurted out.

'First take surveillance on Dr Hooper.'

'What have you gotten her into?' Mycroft sighed but was already typing his orders to his disguised robot agents in New London. 'Surveillance is on, now let me know why is all that fuss?'

'As you might already know, I've found out about the gates.' Mycroft nodded impatiently. 'I've found the broken one. With the help of Dr Hooper I opened it...'

'What do you mean with her help?' Mycroft frowned.

'As you might know that gate can be opened from a female lingerie store, and...'

Mycroft burst into a loud laughter, throwing his head back. Sherlock's first thought was that maybe he had never ever seen his brother laughing let alone in such an honest way.

'Oh Sherlock, what have you gotten yourself into? I take my eyes off you for a moment on this embarrassing planet and you end up wandering around in a lingerie store with a young woman.'

Sherlock waited for a second, letting Mycroft calm down while he felt his ears burning in anger. 'Do you want to hear the rest of it, or not?' he asked sulkily. Mycroft pulled himself together finally.

'Go on, brother mine,' He said seriously holding back a grin.

In spite of Mycroft's little scene Sherlock knew well enough that his brother was eager to know about his encounter with the man who had been responsible for the broken gate. He told Mycroft every important detail about his little trip with Molly on the other side of the dome. When the story reached the point when Moriarty appeared, he was even more specific.

'He had a strong, Titranian accent. He was about 69 inches and 160 pounds, dark brown hair combed back, dark brown eyes. He threatened me to stop investigating then ordered one of his snipers to shoot Dr Hooper. He told me to tell you that Jim Moriarty sent his love.' As Sherlock was speaking Mycroft's face became darker and darker. 'You know who he is, don't you?' Sherlock frowned, tilting his head.

'Let's say we've had an eye on him for a while. I'll send you a photo of him, confirm it.'

Sherlock nodded. As the photo appeared on his screen he shortly added. 'That's him. Who is he?'

'He is one of the most dangerous men on our radar right now. His real name is Richard Brook. He is brilliant and has nothing to lose. Once he had been the lead researcher of the RIT, the Robotic Intelligence of Titran, but he had slipped, started to experiment on positronic brains without the three laws of robotics. As you know it's highly forbidden. Somehow he ignored the necessary nervous paths. When he was discovered, he was fired, and lost all opportunity to get a place at any other robotic company in the whole galaxy. As it seems he has been working for various employees since then, from pirates and high class criminals to high positioned politicians. He uses his knowledge of technology and his rich web of connections. We don't know about his final purpose. There are seemingly no relations between his actions, but we suspect a higher intention.'

'Power play,' Sherlock said with a knowing half smile.

'Pardon?'

'He wants to show that he has the upper hand.'

'Well, he doesn't.' Mycroft looked aside uncomfortably.

'Apparently he does, dear brother.' Sherlock took a deep breath and started to pace up and down in the room. 'He cut out your best men on the case, Eric Burkheart. Your robot agents are no real threat for him. Now he has only one difficulty to take over the power over the gates here and that's me.' Sherlock looked in his brother's eyes. 'Take me onto the case.'

'No.' Mycroft said plainly.

'Why, for God's sake? I am the only one who could stop him and you know it,' Sherlock hissed in anger.

Mycroft remained silent just narrowed his eyes, watching his brother ruffling his hair in annoyance.

'You are afraid of that if I uncover the truth about the planet's state, people would be freed from this horrible place and get their own agriculture, aren't you. It would cause a big deficit in Aurora's economy.'

'You. Are. Completely. Wrong. Bother mine.' Mycroft snorted, shaking his head but there was no sign of amusement in his voice. 'What was Dr Hooper's reaction to the open air?'

'She ... she had a mild panic attack.' Sherlock blinked fervently. 'Ahh...I've got your point. Go on.' He waved his hands to accelerate his brother.

'Opening the gates has been Aurora's long term intention for centuries. Practically since we gained the opportunity to play a leading part in planning and building the domes. But we cannot allow it to happen without precautions. If somebody opens all the gates at the same time without warning and preparing the citizens of the planet, the panic would cause unpredictable consequences. Burkeheart's real mission wasn't to make people comfortable with humanoid robots but to prevent the catastrophe would have been caused by the gates getting into unreliable hands. We can't afford to take here bigger apparatus for this task; the Earth's government is already suspicious because Aurora's attendance is already twice as big as any other outer world's.'

'What is your benefit from this whole issue?' Sherlock frowned suspiciously.

'As surprising as it is, personally I won't get anything from this. Neither will Aurora in the short term.'

'Then why?' Sherlock narrowed his eyes, not really believing his brother. Mycroft had never done anything he didn't gain profit from.

The elder Holmes sighed closing his eyes for a moment. 'Our society is sick, Sherlock, but I think you already know it. You grab every opportunity to escape from the laws, rules of Aurora and from the planet itself.'

Sherlock took a breath to object but Mycroft lifted his palm to stop him.

'Don't deny it, you know it's true.' He sat down in his own study room on Aurora and crossed his legs leaning back in his comfortable, black armchair. 'Our ancestors saw it a few decades after the days Earth had doomed itself and the domes had been built. All the outer planets are the same in this aspect. Our society is based on the opportunities of individuals, not the power of the fellowship. Although we have quite developed technology, in the last hundred years the speed of technical advancement had been practically zero. Our scientists are living in their own ivory towers rarely sharing their achievements with each other, and never doing any research together. Robots were the creators of our home during the colonization, but now we depend on them too much. We are practically inert, newborn babies without them. Thanks to this our society became a bunch of lazy, swollen-headed, selfish and lonely people. Dead end.' Mycroft took a sip from his morning tea slowly, grimacing at the discovery that it had completely cooled. He was watching his brother digesting the information and was listening when he finally spoke.

'However this planet, these people living so tightly together, have their potential, they work like an anthill. Individuals may not be geniuses, but together they can work as a super brain. Humanity can only rebirth here.' Sherlock nodded thoughtfully. 'How dramatic! Back to the cradle of civilization.'

'Exactly. Now you see how very sensitive this case is.'

'Let me take it, you know I am the only one who can handle it! And you don't have other options since your robot agents are absolutely useless in certain situations because of the laws of robotics.' Sherlock eyes became vivid in enthusiasm, his words became faster.

'No way. Moriarty is the most dangerous man I've ever heard about.' Mycroft shook his head with clenched lips and pinched at the bridge of his nose.

'Yes, and?' Sherlock frowned in confusion and shrugged questioningly.

Mycroft sighed worriedly and run his palm in front of his face. 'Fine, do it. Now you know what depends on it.'

As the lift's door closed in front of her, Molly closed her eyes and bit her lower lip to fight back a sob. She didn't know what kind of goodbye she had expected exactly from that cocky alien but certainly not dismissing her like this after all she went through because of him. Why couldn't he be at least half as nice as John, who was a machine, for God's sake?

As soon as she entered her tiny flat Molly dropped down her purse and flopped onto her narrow bed. Lying on her back, staring at the white ceiling right above her, her hand unconsciously stroked her side where she had been shot. It was in a semi-dangerous place, didn't cause her immediate death. It was a threat. When she had woken up that morning all she had felt was a slight inconvenience on her left side and a small red mark. John's medical skills were undoubtedly excellent, but Molly was sure that some alien medical device played a big part in her amazingly quick recovery. If on Earth they could afford such high technology, she definitely would have less work to do.

Molly sighed in frustration. If two weeks ago anyone told her what adventures she, the shy, silent pathologist would have part in, she would definitely laugh in their faces. As Molly's mind was replaying the last few days she slowly drifted into a troublesome sleep.

Her phone's buzzing woke her. She jumped up immediately scouring away her dreams from her eyes with her palms, expecting to see a certain detective's name as the caller ID, but instead the screen showed her the name of the nice, boring police officer, Tom Ryan.

'Hi, Tom,' Molly said cheerfully intending to hide her disappointment.

Next time Molly Hooper heard about the great Sherlock Holmes was the day he died.

She had developed a habit of reading Aurorian News on her tablet beside News of the Earth wile sipping her morning coffee. There was some economic news; quite boring actually, rarely happened anything. But what she was really interested in it was the social heading. Secretly she hoped to read something, anything about that dark, curly haired detective. When she saw the title on Ms Adler's and Mr Holmes's marriage her heart skipped a beat, but below she saw Mycroft's name instead of Sherlock's in the article and she released her breath in relief. That was the point when she realized that she had developed feelings above friendship for that cocky alien, and bitterly congratulated herself for choosing to love the most unreachable man in the whole universe.

One morning a few months after Sherlock and John left the planet -John was nice and had called her to say a proper goodbye - she almost choked in her coffee when she saw the title of the main article of the Aurorian News's site.

Scandal on Aurora! Sherlock Holmes was killed by his own personal robot.

'What?' She murmured reading frantically the whole article.

According to the article, Sherlock had been fidgeting with John's brain for a while instead of claiming a new robot, because John was too old and had an irreversible damage. Sherlock was found by his cleaning robot in his study room with broken skull, John beside him with totally damaged brain, froze in his movement, holding his bloody fist above Sherlock's head. The article facetiously noted that what a shame was that Sherlock Holmes wasn't alive to solve his own murder.

Molly held her hand in front of her mouth, trying to stop the crying bursting out without success. Her lungs demanded air through her fingers as her chest was rising up and down violently. Her heart broke for both Sherlock and John. She considered John as her friend. She developed warm feelings towards the kind and caring robot as well during her few intense days with them. Although she knew that John was a machine, she had been thinking about him as a real person since the day they met.

Her next days were spent in silent grief, although her colleagues didn't see anything of it. She was still the lovely but awkward Molly from the morgue. Only Tom recognized the sadness in her voice once they spoke on the phone and offered her a drink in a near pub for about a hundredth time. And for once she agreed.


	9. Final Run

Two years later after a careful campaign the Earth's government opened the first gates in every city and the first brave volunteers stepped outside to breathe in the planet's fresh, clean air. Doctor Molly Hooper was among the first hundred people in New London who sent in request to own a house outside the dome. She was excited, a bit frightened, but somehow her trust a long dead brilliant man helped her to keep to her decision. When she got the information from the authorities which contained the plans and a few pictures of her new home, she was stunned. It was a huge, three bedroom house in the middle of a prolifical garden.

The first few thousand houses were built by robots with a huge financial support from the Aurorian government. Moving out from the dome was a very big deal to a society which was living under them without seeing the open sky for several hundred years. But as months went on there were more and more brave volunteers to begin a new life in a new home.

'Congratulations, Doctor Hooper. Please take the cab outside and it will take you to your new home. Have a wonderful time,' said kindly the cheerful young man behind the desk as Molly stepped in front of him, but as soon as he had said the last words he was already occupied with the next person in the queue.

Molly shyly walked along to the gate, her small suitcase in her hands. After two months of physical and mental preparation it was still unbelievable that she actually would live outside. The first time she had stepped through a gate came into her mind and a sad smile appeared on her face at the memory of Sherlock Holmes. Molly took a deep breath and walked out to find a black city cab waiting for her. During the long ride she requested the windows to be transparent so she could see other people having their first happy look at their new houses, the huge trees among the new buildings, the tamed but still wild nature.

When the car stopped at the end of a wide road she hesitated a moment but then quickly got out from the cab and ran to the front door. Molly entered slowly, silently laughing in happiness. The bright foyer was almost as big as her previous flat. As she went along her fingertips stroked every surface, every material. The house was fully furnished but she had previously decided to make her home warmer than the actual pure fashion remembering a certain chaotic but somehow homey flat in Baker Street. Molly entered the huge kitchen with a large window to the back garden. She opened the top cabinets to find in them brand new plates and glasses. As she closed the doors grinning, the reflection in the glass caught her eyes. The familiar dark curly hair above the light green eyes could belong to no other than Sherlock Holmes.

Molly froze in her movement not daring to turn around, not wanting the illusion to disappear.

'You...you are...not dead, then?' she asked in a husky voice, looking into his eyes through the reflection.

'Obviously.' Sherlock cleared his throat.

'John...?' Molly closed her eyes, waiting for the answer, holding back her breath.

'He is fine.'

Molly released a sigh in relief then turned around with wide eyes. 'You've let me believe you were dead for two years.' Her voice was still hoarse but louder.

'So you've heard about it, then?' Sherlock asked casually.

Molly silently nodded, there was no reason to mention that she had been reading all the news from Aurora since the day John called her to say goodbye, only to get some information about him.

'Why?'

'It was necessary,' Sherlock answered shortly, lifting his chin, narrowing his eyes.

'Why?' She frowned, slightly shaking her head.

'The man who we met that day, Moriarty. He is the most dangerous criminal. He is like a spider; his web is encompassing the whole populated galaxy. In the last year before my death I was cutting out his network, but he became more and more cautious and we've lost his trail. I assumed he knew that I was the one who tracked him down. So we threw him off his guard by killing me. In this way John and I have been both able to move freely, to work undercover. But now he is back on Earth and trying to make the planet's atmosphere radioactive again by placing bombs under the cities, but we don't know where, yet.'

'Oh, God.' Molly gasped, snatching her hand in front her mouth.

'Would you help me, Molly Hooper?' asked Sherlock, stepping one pace closer to her. Molly took a deep breath to calm down and left her arms hanging beside her body.

'You are here only because you don't have any other choice, aren't you?' she asked looking into his eyes keenly. Sherlock's expression remained still but his body stiffened. 'Of course you are.' Molly sighed, but again she couldn't say no. 'What do you need?' Molly straightened herself. Fear almost disappeared from her big brown eyes and steadiness took its place.

'I need a place to hide, and since you have three bedrooms...' He gestured towards the house's back.

'You. It was you.' Molly's eyes became wide in recognition. 'You arranged for me to have this big house, haven't you? Families get three bedroom houses, not singles.' Molly looked at him with narrowed eyes, searching his face. He pushed his lips together and suddenly found very intriguing the doorframe he supported. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely audible, but he still avoiding looking into her eyes.

'My brother owed me a favour, and you were the first conqueror from Earth, after all.' An awkward silence took its place between them.

'Thank you, it's ... lovely. I love it here.' Molly smiled shyly, gesturing around.

The house was big enough for them to not to disturb each other. Molly went to work every day into the city and Sherlock either stayed in or went on his own business. They hardly met each other. It was clear that it couldn't remain unnoticed that Molly didn't live alone, so they agreed to say that Sherlock was Molly's cousin from New New York considering moving to New London permanently.

When Molly arrived at home, at the beginning, she felt the urge to knock on his door just to check in but she knew he needed as much privacy as he could get. So she left him alone.

Although after several days living together on a Sunday evening Sherlock arrived home with a bag of takeaway. Molly was stunned when he put the package on the counter and put a plate in front of her as well. Sherlock frowned seeing her expression and asked, 'Is there something wrong with the food?'

'Oh, no. Just ... I didn't think you would like to eat together and I've never seen you eating.'

'I rarely eat while I'm working, it slows down the brainwork. But when I do I usually eat with John. I quite like his company during my meals. Makes them less boring,' he said and emptied one of the boxes of Chinese onto his plate. Molly did the same but the fork stopped between the plate and her mouth.

'What?' Sherlock frowned.

'You are eating artificial takeaway from a Chinese restaurant with me on Earth. You haven't worn the filters in your nose since you came back, you usually go to the city which is full of people. You've changed a lot.'

Sherlock set his fork down and wiped his mouth with a white napkin. He'd known that this conversation was coming. He leaned back in his chair folding his arms in front of his chest. 'Yes, I have.' He nodded looking at Molly. 'I've gotten the vaccinations for all the infections which can be dangerous for me on Earth. I am trying to get used to having personal contact or at least proximity. I even had a fistfight a few weeks ago.' He lifted his eyebrows and chin in pride.

'How?' Molly was stunned, remembering their first encounter when Sherlock was horrified of her simple closeness.

'I know several types of martial arts.'

'Really?' Molly gave up eating, and leaned forward onto her elbows concentrating all of her attention on the man.

'Once when I hacked my brother's computer I got access to all government data. There I found all the martial arts techniques and downloaded them onto John then he taught me. Just for physical training then, but it has proven quite useful now.' He shrugged.

'Why?'

'Because fistfights are quite common here and Moriarty's...'

'No. Why are you trying to get used to things here?'

Sherlock gulped, cleared his throat and looked down on his plate. 'Because after this, if I am still alive, I won't go back.'

Molly was speechless, but not at all discontented. She nodded forcing back the huge grin coming to spread across her face. She cleared her throat and took her fork. 'This is sooo good.' She gestured towards the food but secretly hoped that Sherlock understood that she wasn't referring at it at all.

'Is it?' He narrowed his eyes, carefully watching her every move.

'Hmm.' Molly nodded and smiled at him from behind a big mouthful of artificial bamboo shoot.

Sherlock had been there for four weeks when a light knock on the front door made both of them jump out of bed and run to the door in the middle of the night. They reached the hallway at the same time and Molly silently gestured Sherlock to open the door.

The detective had been on edge since he had moved in. The truth was that although he needed a place to hide, the main reason he stayed at Molly's place was because he didn't trust enough in Mycroft's robot agents to protect her, and Moriarty's threatening presence on the planet put Molly into a greater danger than before. Sherlock Holmes for the first time in his life felt responsibility for another human being. After all, he was the very reason Molly was in danger. Moriarty knew she had been involved in discovering his plan previously and Sherlock assumed that Moriarty had already found out about his faked death as well, after he had been methodically cutting out several important arms of his organisation. Of course he was never going to tell her his real intentions, they seemed foolish for him.

As Sherlock reached for the doorknob his other hand went to the back of the band of his pyjama bottoms and gingerly pulled out a small handgun. He quickly opened the door and lifted the gun to head height when he saw that there was standing no other then John R. Watson, his robot and, as strange as it was to say, his best friend. Sherlock lowered his weapon and lifted one eyebrow questioningly. John put his index finger in front of his mouth to silence both the detective and the pathologist, but not expecting Molly to jump into his neck wrapping her arms around it, he quickly had to grab the doorframe not to fall back. After a silent kiss on his cheek Molly let him go and blushingly stepped back to let John in. As he closed the door behind him he held out a brand new phone towards Sherlock and held his other hand expectantly. The detective knew exactly what John wanted and put his old phone into the robot's hand, who immediately rushed it in his fist. Molly gasped at the sight. She sometimes forgot that under the kind, human, friendly surface what a huge strength, what a powerful machine hid.

'So that's the reason you didn't send a message about your arrival,' Sherlock stated taking his new phone. 'I've been bugged,' he exclaimed and John nodded.

'He knows everything, except that I am here too. As long as this remains this way we have the upper hand,' John said seriously.

'Stupid, stupid, stupid!' Sherlock started to march up and down, growling in frustration, furiously ruffling his hair. 'How could I be so stupid? How could I let myself be so distracted?' He took a quick side-glance at Molly but said nothing more.

The rest of the night they spent listening to John giving information about Moriarty, and the details of the upcoming attack towards the whole population on Planet Earth. Although for Sherlock's frustration the 'when' and the 'where' were still unknown.

The Aurorian Sherlock Holmes had been hiding at Doctor Molly Hooper's house on Hope Road, outside New London's dome on the Old Earth for four weeks, when Moriarty finally made a move. On a Friday afternoon every screen on the whole Earth showed a endless loop replaying some archival, black and white recording of a mushroom shaped atomic blast. Molly was working at Bart's lab when her screen changed to show the horrible sight and immediately called Sherlock.

After World War IV experimenting with any kind of nuclear weapon was strictly forbidden all over the planet. All cities signed an agreement of the rules about scientific experimenting with atomic fission.

'Do you see that?' Molly asked restlessly.

'Yes.' Sherlock frowned, Molly could tell from his tone.

'It's on every screen in here.'

'I know. Stay where you are!' he ordered and hung up quickly. What Molly didn't know, was that Sherlock was hiding on the rooftop of the building from which he could keep an eye on the whole department as Molly moved about during the day.

His daily routine was stepping out of the door of Molly's home seven minutes after she had and following her to Bart's. Sometimes if there was nothing to do except wait for Moriarty's next move, he would sit on the roof opposite to the hospital and look after her keeping in close contact with the robot agents Mycroft had ordered to protect Molly.

So as soon as he saw the screens in Bart's through the window he started up and ran down the stairs to grab Molly and take her to a safer place. He knew the agents would be quicker and be there before him, but he wanted to take things into his own hands as soon as possible. He trusted in the robots but knew exactly their limits. He crossed the street noticing the cars merely from the corner of his eyes, jumping on the parked ones to get into the hospital quicker. As Sherlock ran through the main entrance he pushed over a few people. He knew he would attract attention but it didn't matter anymore, the game was on, Moriarty had come out.

He took the steps down to the morgue, two at a time and burst into the lab, where he had last seen Molly from the roof, only to find two unserviceable robot agents. Moriarty was faster. Sherlock let out a groan in frustration and ran his hand through his hair, stepping back towards the wall for support. He was trying to catch his breath hands on his knees. A few deep shaky breaths later he stepped forward to examine the robots if there was any possibility to restore them, while he was texting John.

He took her.

The agents were totally out, he was sure at the moment he saw the physical damage in their brain caused by inextricable mental conflicts. Moriarty didn't even had to use a physical weapon, his brilliance was enough. Half of the metallic blue organic gel containing the nervous paths was practically burnt to carbon. Sherlock winced at the thought of what John could suffer from Moriarty if they met, in spite of the fact that he already loosened redundantly strict connections in his positronic brain.

He was stuck; no information from the robots, he was sure the CCTV cameras would be clean. All he could do was examine the scene, but he assumed there would be no information on Molly's whereabouts. He had been searching the lab for an hour when his phone went off. He expected a message from John, but instead it was a call, ID unknown.

'Holmes,' he said slowly frowning in concentration.

'Hello Lovely! It's sooooo calm down in here, isn't it Molly? Sorry, she can't speak at the moment,' the madman spoke with fake sadness. Sherlock heard the faint sounds of splashing and coughing from the background. His fists clenched for the image appearing in his mind of the drowning Molly. 'Isn't it touching? The source of life. Hooow precious it is for these apes.'

'I don't like riddles,' Sherlock said flatly.

'You better get used to them.' His shouting became cold and furious. 'Come and get meeee!' Moriarty said in his playful manner again then he hung up.

Before Sherlock did anything else, he made a phone call.

'Mycroft. Shut down the whole water system. He poisoned it,' Sherlock ordered immediately.

'Consider it done,' Mycroft answered shortly without further questions and ended the call. Maybe the brothers' relationship was not cloudless, but they knew when they had to trust each other's word.

Sherlock turned out of the lab only to start another frantic rush this time not only for Molly's but probably the whole planet's life.


	10. With My Last Breath

'So, Molly dear! Is this your real name at all?' Moriarty was circling around Molly like a predator around its prey.

She was kneeling on the floor with her hands tied behind her back. She shook her head in confusion. 'What..?' she asked shakily.

'Oooh-oh. You're good, aren't you? One of the best. That's why Mycroft Holmes chose you to babysit his little brother.'

Molly frowned in disbelief. She didn't understand a word. 'I don't...I don't know what you're...talking about,' she panted. The man's expression suddenly darkened and Molly felt her stomach clenching in fear.

'Don't you dare to try to mess with me!' he shouted, thrusting his face, purple with rage, close to Molly's before suddenly backing away.'I know Sherlock Holmes is not working alone. Since his 'friend' is gone, I saw it with my own eyes in the robot cemetery, tough sight I have to say,' Moriarty's face changed into overacted regretful. '...he has been working with YOU!' he was shouting again. Molly already was exhausted from the shock and the stress this psychotic man placed her under. Her tears began to drop silently.

'Oh, no, no, no crying! I don't fall for tears, darling,' he ordered mockingly. 'Seb, come here, my lovely guest wants to probe the water.'

Molly's eyes widened as a huge blond man stepped out of the shadows. He was taller than anybody Molly had ever seen. He looked muscular, and his face was somehow empty. He was a robot, of course. She calmed down a bit knowing about the three laws built into every robot, but calmness vanished when she was lifted by one powerful arm and carried to one of the water tanks and without hesitation put into it. Naturally Molly couldn't swim, since she had never even seen enough water in one place to be able to sink into. As she was flinging in the tank, trying to get some air, she felt the enormous arm grabbing her again and lifting her out.

'Now, do you have anything to say, darling? No?' After waiting for Molly's answer, who could only cough and fight for air, he waved to Seb to repeatedly push her under the water. Before sinking she again heard Moriarty speaking to her.

'Now it's time to call your boyfriend, isn't it? He must be very concerned by now.'

After that all Molly could hear was the splashing and her own choking. Time seemed to stop existing, she felt she'd been there fighting for her life for an eternity and that it would never end until she died. She slowly felt the effect of the lack of oxygen and started to lose focus; each time more and more water got into her lungs and wasloosing the ability to move her limbs. Before Molly completely lost consciousness she felt the strong arm grabbing her again, then everything went white in front of her eyes.

John R. Watson left his bolt hole as soon as he got the message from Sherlock. He hadn't left the place for weeks, he was working from the background, but from what he knew about Moriarty's affection to simple violence, and he knew that he would be needed. He took one of the guns with him Sherlock smuggled to the planet for himself and put it behind the waistband of his trousers. Thanks to the inner GPS he had and the phone he gave Sherlock, he knew exactly where the detective was going.

As Sherlock was running through the Waterloo Station of the tube, pushing aside anyone who got in his way, he felt his blood was pumping in his ears, his adrenaline being in incredible heights. In the last two years hunting down Moriarty's web he got used to the excitement, he even began to enjoy the thrill of the chase, not fearing really for his own life, but now it was entirely different. His stomach was clenching, he felt sick and the air was burning his lungs. He didn't like this kind of excitement at all.

Reaching the end of the tunnel Sherlock found the heavy mechanical door with the 'no entry' sign on it. The lock wasn't digital because the architects were counting on the possibility of a fifth war and it was of vital importance to be able to reach the water resources even if electricity was out.

With a great effort he slowly turned the handle tearing apart the seal and opened the heavy steel door. Stepping inside he already smelled the scent of cleaned water, according to his map on his phone of the aquifer he wasn't far from the actual tanks. A minute later determined steps passed through the same door.

Sherlock was near to the centre of the whole underground institution, Moriarty's suspected location when he heard him speaking.

'Now, Molly, dear. Let's continue. How many human agents are after me? I've already killed four, you are the fifth, darling. How many of you are still out there?' Only Molly's faint sobbing could be heard after she whispered 'I don't know.' She whimpered silently, her cheeks were still burning and her jaw was hurting from the strong slaps she had got from Seb after she had fainted.

'Tough girl, isn't she, Sherlock?' He raised his voice and with straighter back looked around seemingly not knowing about the detective's exact hiding place in the shadows. 'Just come closer, don't be shy. I don't bite.' He chuckled like a maniac and added, 'Too deep.'

Sherlock decided that there was no point not to show himself, so he stepped out from behind a wide pillar and with slow paces.

'What do you want? Jim.' he asked looking straight into the criminal's eyes.

'Oh, how straightforward you are. You've been quite a busy bee, haven't you? You've hunted down all my best men. I am not happy, let's say. What do I want? I. Want. You. Dead.' He hissed through his teeth leaning forward. But his expression suddenly changed and with wide eyes, lifted eyebrows in an innocent voice he added. 'But before I kill you, I want to play with you. I am sooo bored sometimes.' He sighed dramatically. 'I've already got your best toy.' Jim nodded towards the half conscious Molly. 'Let's see what does she's worth toyou.'

'Hmm.' Sherlock chuckled. 'Really, that's your best card?' A hint of confusion ran through the madman's face.

'Why?' he asked with knitted eyebrows. Sherlock shrugged.

'She is only one of Mycroft's minions; she should have been able to watch out for herself. Do whatever you want to do to her.' Sherlock rolled his eyes secretly looking at Molly, whose sobbing became more violent hearing his words.

Moriarty narrowed his eyes and smiled widely. Still looking into Sherlock's eyes he said, 'We will see. Seb, it's your turn.' The robot came to grab Molly again, but as soon as it lifted one arm, it froze in the movement, and bluish liquid started to leak from the small hole between his empty eyes.

'Whoa-whoa-whoa.' Moriarty burst into hysterical laughter. 'I like that. Hmm.' He nodded. 'I love surprises.' Sherlock frowned at him suspiciously. 'But it seems that our little game will be shorter than I intended. With that he quickly jumped beside Molly and pointed a gun to her head.

'Not a single step Sherlock! Drop your gun or she is dead.' Without turning his head he shouted. 'John R Watson, come along. You are already useless anyway. There are too many actual human lives at risk, aren't there?' he asked mockingly, Sherlock dropping his gun to Moriarty's feet nodded towards John, who stepped forward.

'Very clever, veeery clever. You faked your own and your pet's death. This means...' he grabbed Molly's hair and pulled it to have her standing in front of him.'...she is not an agent. Poor little Molly.' Moriarty turned his face and gave a lingering kiss on Molly's cheek, his eyes still on Sherlock. 'John, stay where you are, obey my orders!' He shouted close to the girl's ear while he eyed Sherlock. 'Oohooh. Your heart is showing Sherlock,' he said playfully nodding towards the detective's clenching fists. 'That was all I wanted to know.' He suddenly pulled away the gun from Molly's temple and pointed at Sherlock. 'Good bye lovely!' he said with faked kindness and shot.

Molly knowing her death was already secured on that day pulled together all her courage and pushed backwards the madman with her whole bodyweight. He slipped a bit but soon recovered, so his shot was successful and Sherlock dropped immediately, surprised by the harsh bite under his ribs. Molly burst into a loud cry and tried to free herself from Moriarty's grip, fighting and kicking.

'Woha-ha, such a drama. It's more entertaining than any of your inane movies about great and noble emotions,' he said, tightening his grip on the pathologist. Sherlock accidentally moved his hand and this attracted the criminal's attention and he turned his gun towards the detective to kill him for good.

What he didn't expect at all, was the cold sensation of a barrel on the back of his head.

'Drop the gun or I will kill you.' John's voice was a machine's cold one, but Molly heard the slight shaking in it.

'Don't be ridiculous. Surely the angelic Sherlock Holmes didn't block the laws in you.'

'No, but he had loosened them a bit. I will kill you then I will stop functioning immediately. It will be worth it.' John grinned but it was more a painful snarl.

The detective felt sudden panic, a tightening feeling in his chest hearing his friend's words. He slowly opened his eyes and looked around for anything that could help to save them all. Seeing the unserviceable robot a few meters away a plan was created in his head. Sherlock pulling all his remaining energy together silently crept over to Seb's body on the cold concrete floor. With every movement he felt the blood pumping out of his tired body. When he finally reached the huge robot, he removed the gun from its belt, constantly glancing at the trio.

As soon as he had the gun, he knew there was no time for recompense, or saying something witty about who the final winner was actually in this sick game. He simply pulled the trigger to make a hole on the madman's skull. The gun slid out from between his fingers and with a big thump his head fell back on the hard floor.

Before fainting he only heard Molly's short scream, and the patter of John's limping paces.


	11. In The Right Place

Sherlock was still asleep when Molly exited and closed the door behind herself at Bart's special section reserved for extreme cases. Sherlock Holmes was now an extreme case since he was from an outer planet and was in custody for killing a man. A not very nice man as DI Lestrade, who was responsible for making Sherlock Holmes stay in his hospital room, pointed out very insightfully.

The last few months, since the alien detective had been secretly back on Earth, Lestrade and Sherlock had been in touch every day. The consulting detective revealed himself to Greg a few days after he had arrived. He offered his help to the police in exchange forusing the NNSY's sources and information to get Moriarty's network down. First Lestrade was sceptical, but after Sherlock had solved a two year old case of 'serial suicides' only from the files he had been given he accepted the deal, n spite of knowing he would eventually pay for this. But till then no murderer was safe in New London, thanks to Sherlock Holmes.

They had always met in dark allyes, shady garages or the brilliant bastard simply walked into the police station in some ridiculously perfect disguise. Greg slowly began to feel friendship towards this strange Aurorian despite the said man usually being an insufferable git, though he wasn't sure if the other was even able to feel the same.

'Hey, Molly, how is he?' he asked the girl who had been just stepping out of Sherlock Holmes' room.

'He is okay. His vitals are fine. I think they just keep him in to sleep. They gave him sedatives. He hasn't slept a lot for a few weeks. Well... and maybe because he is much less rude when he sleeps.' Molly smiled weakly, and Greg returned it but also saw the concern in Molly's eyes.

'He will be fine, Molly. He is a great man. Maybe one day he will be a good one.' Lestrade gingerly patted her shoulder. Molly nodded and walked out of the closed security part to the corridor to sit next to John on the couch, where the visitors were supposed to wait.

Greg returned to his phone to occupy himself during these boring hours. It was not particularly his favourite job to be the doorman, he hadn't done it for decades actually, but Mycroft Holmes asked him personally, so he didn't have a chance to object and after all it was not a big deal to do this for a friend.

'So?' Molly sat down next to John and turned to face him. John turned his head as well and with a smile he asked.

'So what, Molly?'

'Are you going to tell me or do I have to ask.'

'Hmm...' John nodded, leaning back in his seat and folding his arms in front of his chest but the smile remained. 'Then ask.'

Molly sighed and fixed her brown eyes on John's blue ones. 'You do have emotions, don't you?'

'Very straightforward, Dr Hooper.' He smiled teasingly. 'Yes, I do.'

Molly's eyes widened. She had suspected something like that but hearing the confirmation was still shocking. 'Does every robot...?' she started but John's answer came quicker than her words.

'No. I am exceptional. It's a mistake in my brain, but they have never managed to locate it. It is called Human Error. There are a few others like me. They decided not to shut us down but to use us for special purposes.'

'Do they know about it, really?' Molly asked more surprised.

'A few. My makers did and Mycroft Holmes.'

'Sherlock?'

'No. Officially not.' John shook his head. 'But I assume that he has suspected it for a while.'

'When Moriarty tried to pull information out of me, he said that I was the one who had been sent by Mycroft Holmes to babysit Sherlock. But it's you, isn't it?'

John only nodded with a long blink.

'How would you be able to shoot Moriarty? The laws...'

John began to smile. 'I wouldn't. But he didn't know it. Nor could Sherlock be sure about it. He had altered a few things in my brain, but not that much.'

'But you shouldn't let Sherlock shoot him either. How...?' John's expression became cloudy.

'That's when my error comes in. When the positronic brain was invented the makers planted the three laws practically into every nervous path. There was no chance to build a robot without the laws. Officially. However there were experiments, of course, that mostly led to unserviceable specimens and rarely to repeatable results. Like me. As robots were getting more work in their own creation, since people were no longer willing to work together, an evolution began. Robots could think together more complicated, more farseeing, and soon we discovered something more important than the human individual's well being. The human race itself. There is a zeroth law what very few know about. A robot may not harm humanity, or, by inaction, allow humanity to come to harm.

When World War 4 began we knew it was time. Time to rebuild the cradle of humanity here on Earth. By then we already had considerable ascendancy over Aurora's government, so our plan was easily feasible.'

'Why didn't you preclude the war? Millions died. You would have been able to.' Molly couldn't stop sounding angry and upset. It was almost too much she had heard from John. The robot winced at the mention of millions of deaths, and Molly saw how difficult a topic it was for him.

'There was no point, Molly.' His voice sounded hoarse. 'Sooner or later it would have happened. It was mathematical necessity.' Molly lifted her eyebrows in disbelief but decided not to continue this topic for now for John's sake.

'How old are you?' Molly asked, narrowing her eyes. John chuckled openly.

'I am three hundred and twenty three.'

'How long have you been with Sherlock?'

'Since he was born. He is just as special as I am. Aurora's government was watching all the offspring's genetic stands and every extraordinary child got one of us. An ordinary human uses twenty percentage of their brain at the most. Sherlock uses eighty-five. He is one who is able to change important things, but he needed my guidance.'

'What do you mean needed?' Molly frowned suspiciously.

'My job is over with him, Molly.' John smiled genuinely. 'He had found the way out of Aurora, and he is in a place where he can achieve what he is able to.'

'Are...are you going away?' Molly's eyes started to fill with tears.

'Yes, tomorrow I'll get the details of my next mission.'

'Will you miss him?'

After a minute silence and a deep sigh John answered, whispering, 'I will. I will. He is my friend.' John looked down to his shoes, not saying anything else. When Lestrade waved, indicating that Sherlock was awake, Molly simply nodded towards John wanting him to go in first.

When John stepped in, Sherlock lying between the white hospital duvets turned his head towards his friend. Neither of them spoke for a while but finally the human broke the silence.

'So, you are done with me, then?' He smiled slightly.

'How long have you known?' John narrowed his eyes, shaking his head with a small smile.

'Well, I was ten when I first got suspicious, but it got confirmed when I was sixteen and managed to hack the MI7's system.'

'You've known it for a bloody long time.' John almost chuckled. 'Why haven't you ever said anything?'

'Hmm. It would have spoiled the game,' Sherlock said with a half smile and they both laughed like in the good old days.

'So, this is goodbye then?' Sherlock asked finally and there was no trace of the former cheery mood, on his face seriousness took its place.

The blond man nodded, pressing his lips together. Sherlock reached out his right hand towards John who hummed and took it.

'To the very best of times, John R. Watson.'

'To the very best of times, Sherlock Holmes.'

When John exited Sherlock's room his way led straight to Molly.

'Well, Dr Molly Hooper, it was a pleasure to meet you. 'John smiled genuinely and bowed in front of her. Molly wiped her tears with the back of her hand but she was unable to hold back the urge and hugged him, giving a kiss on his cheek.

'Good bye, John,' she whispered into his ear in a shaky voice. As they parted John turned and walked away on the long semi-lighted hospital corridor.

Molly was watching him till he rigidly turned to enter the lift and disappeared, and then she nodded to herself, wiped her cheeks once again, smiling sadly.

She hesitated a bit to go to see Sherlock or not but a moment later her hand was on the door panel. Sherlock was half sitting in his bed now but his eyes were closed. As Molly stepped next to him, he opened his eyes but didn't turn to look at her. The pathologist didn't know what to say, if there was anything to say at all. She did the first thing her instinct whispered to her. She sat down in the armchair standing next to the bed and reached out her hand to merely take it onto his resting beside him. After first stiffening to her touch Sherlock turned his hand, his palm upside and crooked his fingers to hold Molly's hand. With a deep sigh he closed his eyes again. Molly smiled and leaned back in her chair to have finally a rest after this horrible day with this cocky but fascinating alien breathing alive beside her.


	12. Visitors

Visitors

Sherlock had been living in Molly's house after his trial. The hearing was held behind closed doors and even Sherlock didn't like to talk about it. Molly suspected Mycroft Holmes' ascendancy played a huge part in the judge's decision. A part of the sentence was that Sherlock was obligated to help the police's work by using his extraordinary skills next to DI Lestrade, who offered his patronage voluntarily. Though Molly didn't know how exactly was this a punishment for Sherlock.

She offered him the spare bedroom after the whole procedure knowing how uncomfortable it would be to him to go back under the dome to Baker Street until he found a place for himself outside, although he didn't seem to rush the searching, not that Molly minded.

At the end of a fatiguing day at work Molly arrived at home after twilight and found Sherlock in the garden lying on his back staring at the stars. Molly silently sat down beside him, not too close, not wanting to disturb his personal space and was stroking the tender green grass at her feet.

'Do you miss him?' She asked finally.

'Hmm.' Sherlock hummed. 'The stars are different.' His response was short and somehow dreamy and not exactly the answer to her question, but Molly understood. She always understood.

'Lie down, look at the sky.' His husky voice came silently.

'I...uhm.' Molly was still uncomfortable just staring at the deep endless blackness called space, but she obeyed. 'Okay.' She fidgeted a bit before accommodating herself in the position. 'What now?' She asked trying really hard to sound casual.

But Sherlock didn't answer just found her hand with his between them, grabbed her wrist and caressed the thin skin a bit before he pushed his pointer and middle finger against it.

Molly stiffened as she saw Sherlock rolling to his side resting on his elbow from the corner of her eyes but didn't dare to move. Instead she closed her eyes and let herself enjoy his proximity. There had been a few intimate moments between the two of them like this in the last few weeks, but after them Sherlock was more aloof and snappy for a few days.

When she felt his lips hesitantly touching her own she couldn't stand the urge to open her eyes to see if this was really happening. As she saw Sherlock's Expression of concentration she smiled into the kiss but feeling him backing away Molly placed her free palm onto the back of his head and gingerly pulled him closer. When they parted Sherlock whispered still lingering his mouth close to Molly's.

'According to my research, considering our mutual affection, this was in order.'

'Yes, this was.' Molly murmured pulling Sherlock back to herself.

Four months after Sherlock's trial Molly sat at the dinner table and was reading the morning news on her tablet when she heard the doorbell ringing. She got up taking her coffee with herself to open the door. To see Tom at her doorstep was quite surprising but him holding a bunch of lily of the valleys was more. She almost chocked into her coffee.

'Hello Molly, you look beautiful.' Tom was grinning widely and pushed the flowers forward. Molly reached out for them hesitantly.

'Uhm...Hi Tom!' She forced a smile and murmured thanks for the flowers. Awkward silence took its place between them.

'Listen, Molly. I was thinking. I know I am not perfect, but I can change. Just tell me how. We were so good together, let's try again, please.'

'Oh Tom...' Molly sighed with sorrow in her eyes. She felt pity for Tom for breaking their engagement so suddenly the day after Sherlock had come back.

'Please Molly. You don't have to take back the ring. Just give me another chance. Please.' Now his expression was far from cheerful. He was desperate.

Molly just wanted to answer when he door behind her opened wider and Sherlock stepped outside knotting his new blue scarf.

'Lestrade called, there's a case. Double murder. I'll come to Bart's to...see the corpse.' Sherlock stopped seeing Tom's shocked expression and gave him his gloved right hand. Tom accepted it with slightly opened mouth in recognition. Sherlock nodded then headed towards the street to get a cab. Molly looked down at her feet, she really didn't want to cause more pain to Tom.

'So...khm...I assume your answer is no.'

'Oh, Tom, I'm so sorry.' Molly sighed.

'It was always him, wasn't it?' Molly remained silent. 'Answer me, please. I have to know. Did you...while we were...?'

'What? ... Oh, no, no, no.' Molly's eyes widened. 'It was just me. I thought he was dead. Then he came back, and I felt it was not fair to you, but I couldn't tell you all of it then. It was the right decision.'

Tom cleared his throat and looked away, swallowing hard. 'Fine, then.' He lowered his head. 'I won't bother you anymore. Have a happy life Molly. I truly wish.' He smiled shortly then turned on his heels, leaving Molly there with teary eyes, not looking back.

At Bart's Molly arrived back to the morgue to find Greg and Sherlock waiting for her in their long dark coats.

'Hi.' she gave a sweet smile which was returned by Lestrade but not by Sherlock. Molly's face dropped and frustration began to rise in her chest. 'Hmm...Who do you want to see?'

The whole examination was spent in tension which was quite clearly felt by the DI, so after they finished he excused himself and quickly left leaving the two alone to discuss whatever they needed to.

Sherlock started to pace up and down in the room his hands under his chin.

'So...khmm...' He finally started. 'So you were engaged to...Tom.' Molly's eyes dropped and gave a silent nod. 'As I understand marriage here on Earth is a lifelong bond based on mutual decision and strong emotions...khm... love. It contains absolutism, loyalty and commitment. Married couples live in the same household, share physical intimacy, usually procreate offspring in the traditional way and raise them themselves. Am I correct?'

Molly frowned, not knowing where this whole thing would lead their conversation. 'Yes,' was her short hesitant answer.

'Then marry me. I want all of this with you.'

'What?' Molly's mouth remained slightly open in surprise. This was not at all what she had been expecting. But this was Sherlock Holmes, not an ordinary man from Earth. This was not the most romantic proposal she could imagine, but undoubtedly he was quite clear with his intentions.

'Marry me, will you?' Sherlock stepped closer to stand right in front of her and reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. His green blue eyes were searching Molly's brown ones.

'Yes, yes I will,' Molly whispered just before Sherlock pressed his palms each side of her head and kissed her deeply.

A year later

Sherlock Holmes was pacing up and down in his study. He had been on a rather tricky case, an eight at least, for two days. It was half past midnight when he heard the light knock on the front door. Last time the midnight guest had been John Watson during the Moriarty case, hence with a small hope he expected to find his long unseen friend standing on the threshold, but to his utter surprise he saw a woman's sillhouette through the glass as he was walking down the corridor to open the door. He flung the door open to meet the gaze of his ex-fianceè, Irene Adler.

'How...what are you doing here?' He blurted out with confusion.

'Never been a man of pleasantries, have you?' She chuckled and raised one eyebrow. She wore a long hooded black coat covering her head to toe.

'Why are you here?' Sherlock furrowed his brow. If Irene made the effort to come here to this planet it had to be something serious. 'Did Mycroft send you?'

'Would you let me in?' She smiled and took a step forward.

'What for?' Irene hesitantly reached out and placed her palm on Sherlock's chest. She inhaled a quick breath as he literally jumped back. 'What are you doing?' He asked frowning.

'I moved here and I wanted to see you,' Irene said casually. Her expression became serious. 'I've always known that I was different. I was dreaming about touching you, and feeling you. Have you ever dreamt about me?' She stepped closer to Sherlock smirking, causing him to back up.

'Sherlock? I heard noises. Who is it?' Molly's low voice came from inside. As she reached the door and poked her head from behind the detective the two women gasped in the same time in recognition. She remembered immediately the stunning woman who she had seen once back in Baker Street years ago.

'Oh. Why...why don't you come inside?' she asked kindly, Irene silently nodded and stepped in, passing Sherlock who was ruffling his hair in frustration while closing the door.

As soon as Irene was in the living room Molly turned to her, offering tea which she accepted with a curt nod, not being able to form a word seeing the other woman's huge belly. As the heavily pregnant Molly disappeared into the kitchen in her white nightie Irene turned towards Sherlock.

'Apparently your brother forgot to mention one or two things when I asked him where to find you.' She paused. 'I can see you adapted yourself quite well.' Her tone was not the same. She sounded disappointed. 'You didn't want me to have your child.' She looked deeply into Sherlock's eyes and pressed her lips together and let out a huff with a wince.

'No,' he said shortly. He had nothing more to say.

'Our genetics would have been perfect ...'

'Yes, yes. Of course. It's not about genes, Irene.'

'I know, believe me. I know.' She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. When she looked up at Sherlock again her eyes were glossy. 'It's better I go.'

As Irene was walking towards the door stopped to press a lingering kiss onto Sherlock's cheek, then she disappeared in the night.

When the detective turned to go to the kitchen to stop Molly bothering with the tea, he saw she was already there standing at the doorway looking at him with hurt expression then quickly turning back to the kitchen with the tray she held for the three teacups.

Sherlock sighed with a long blink and followed her.

'Molly!' As he reached her standing at the counter he gingerly took his hands on her shoulders. 'Molly, what's the matter?' He whispered into her neck. Molly stopped pouring out the hot water, she had boiled, into the sink. She froze in the movement.

'You would have had perfect children.' She muttered.

'Yes, in a way. Dark curls, icy blue eyes, brilliant brain and no heart since neither its parent's had one.'

'You have a heart.' Molly objected.

'Yes, but I am having it outside of my chest, and she is carrying the most precious gift I've ever recived.' Sherlock continued to whisper before kissing Molly's neck, caressing the thin skin above her collarbone. With a last string she weakly tried to resist between two gasps.

'Don't you have a case to solve?'

'I do, but first I have a wife to make happy.' He purred turning Molly towards himself and kissing her with all his love.

Three months later

Mycroft's holographic image leaned back in his large armchair and sighed. 'Well, how are you little brother? To what do I owe the pleasure?'

'Your nephew was born yesterday.'

'How sentimental you became.' He sighed theatrically but Sherlock didn't miss the small smile appearing on his brother face for a moment.

'His name is Peter Michael Holmes.'

'Hmm, nice.' Mycroft hummed pretending to be bored looking at his nails.

'A few month ago Irene visited. She had moved here.'

'Yes, New New Delhi, I suppose.' The elder Holmes rolled his eyes.

'Oh, you know exactly where she is, I suppose,' Sherlock said mockingly, teasing Mycroft with a grin, but his smile changed into a serious expression soon. 'Why don't you move here too?'

Mycroft snorted, but there was no cheer in it. 'I'm too old for this, Sherlock.' Mycroft sighed. 'If this issue had happened twenty, thirty years ago, I think I would have been the first to settle down on Earth. Now I am tired, I don't want all the trouble that would come with it.'

After a short silence Sherlock asked, 'And what if Irene asks you to come?'

'You know exactly that I am not the Holmes my wife would want near.' A long pregnant silence took its place between the brothers, Mycroft broke it in a more casual tone.

'By the way, I have a case for you. You will rate it as a nine at least, I am sure.' Sherlock raised his eyebrows tempted by the promise, but also being uncertain if he should take the case having a newborn baby.

'It's not urgent, but it will need to be handled in a few weeks.' Mycroft added sensing his brother's hesitation.

'Hmm, fine. I'll take it.' A content smile spread on Mycroft's face.

'Good. The new ambassador will contact you with the details soon. Good bye, little brother. Give my regards to Molly, will you?'

'Hmm, I will inform her about your overflowing joy over having a nephew.' Sherlock said dramatically.

'Good, good.' Mycroft nodded with a half smile and hung up. Sherlock grinned enjoying getting back the same old pecking conversation with his brother.

A few days later Molly finally had a little time to have a proper shower, and have a more proper breakfast. Since Peter was born she had felt she could eat a horse for each meal because of breastfeeding. Peter was a real chow hound. She was just sitting down in her fresh clothes with her hair still wet to have a large bite from her toast when the doorbell rang.

'Seriously? She muttered and set down the intact slice of bread onto her plate with disappointment. She knew she was the one who had to open the door because Sherlock was occupied having a finally sleeping baby on his chest lying on the couch.

Molly not so gracefully walked to the door and with a tired sigh opened it to see the back of a blond head turning slowly at her direction. Her breath remained in her lungs for a bit longer than usual before she jumped in the visitor's neck pecking his cheeks quickly.

'Oh, John, it's so good to see you.' Molly whispered then let him go but by grabbing his arm started to pull him inside. 'He will be so happy. Come in, come in.'

As John entered the big warmly upholstered living room he was welcomed by the pleasant sight of the significant couch from Baker Street occupied by a rather dishevelled, sleeping Sherlock Holmes in his pyjamas with a tiny, black haired, peacefully snoring baby on his chest. John was about to turn around to head back to the kitchen, when he heard his friend's familiar deep voice.

'Congratulations are in order for your new job, I presume, Ambassador.'

'Hmm, yes. Though it's a pretty easy one. It requires only one human's capacity, so I will have some time to chase criminals with you in my spare time.' John answered looking at Sherlock's still calm face, his closed eyelids.

'Good.' The detective said and a wide childish smile spread across his face. He unconsciously stroked the sleeping baby's back gently, opened his eyes and reached out his free hand to John, who gladly shook it smiling kindly at the two Holmes' in front of him.

Molly finally started to eat her breakfast and the bell buzzed again. Sighing deeply in surrender she went to open the door.

'Hello Sweety!' Her blond friend, Mary stood in front of her with a wide smile, holding a bag of different desserts.

'Oh, you are Godsend!' Molly exclaimed as she grabbed the bag hungrily and stepped aside letting Mary Morstan in, already searching elbow deep among the desserts.

'I saw a cute guy coming to your house just right before me. Who is he?' Mary hung up her red coat next to the front door.

'Hmm...He is Sherlock's best friend, John.' Molly licked the sweet chocolate cream from her finger.

'If he is half as good husband material as Sherlock, I want to meet him.' Mary winked while she smiled widely.

Molly almost chocked into a huge slice of strawberry cake. 'I don't...He's...'

But she was interrupted by Sherlock and John entering the kitchen.

'Yes, as Molly wanted to say, John has just moved here. John, this is Mary Morstan, Molly's old friend. Mary, this is John Watson, my best friend and, believe me, he is twice as good husband material as myself.' Sherlock grinned cheekily as the two of them shook hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading dears, I hope you enjoyed this little story. Till next time. :)


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